


Consulting Saves Lives

by EllanaSan



Category: Jurassic Park (Movies), Jurassic Park - All Media Types, Jurassic World (2015)
Genre: F/M, Movie AU, Universe Alteration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-19
Updated: 2015-08-27
Packaged: 2018-04-15 14:21:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4609977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllanaSan/pseuds/EllanaSan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The date is a disaster but her lips are red so Owen takes a chance - or what could have happened if they had in fact stopped to consult in the bungalow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be one-shot based on the trope “what would have happened if they had indeed ‘consulted’ in the bungalow”. Well, supposed is the key word because it grew and grew and… yeah… grew. So here we are.  
> It’s all written so I will try to update everyday.  
> The story isn’t explicit but it does contain mature content meaning light smut. Be warned. Don’t like, don’t read.  
> English is not my mothertongue. I did my best. Be lenient please

Her lips are painted red and that’s all Owen can focus on.

He knows the date is going to hell – or _has gone_ to hell about half an hour ago, really; they will get to Satan’s throne room soon at the rate they’re going – and it’s also terribly obvious they’re not compatible but her lips are painted red and he can’t take his eyes off the pout that’s been hanging from her mouth ever since she saw his board shorts.

Tequila hasn’t helped.

Mocking her itinerary hasn’t been his best move either (even though it _is_ ridiculous, who ever brings an itinerary on a date?).

Owen tries to salvage what he can, tries to be smooth because these red lips are a siren song calling to him and he can’t stay away, but he knows it’s a lost cause. He insists on walking her back to her car anyway because they might be on an island with dinosaurs but that didn’t mean there aren’t still creeps in the parking lots.

Walking her back to the car is the first clever thing he has done all evening, he decides. It doesn’t win him any points with her, she rants all the short trip from the bar to the parking lot about how she’s absolutely capable of handling herself – and the thing is he doesn’t doubt for one second she can handle herself but he doesn’t get an opportunity to actually _tell her_ because she can’t _shut_ _up_ for more than one second.

“Look.” he says, as she stops next to the white car he has seen her using around the park. She’s rummaging in her purse for the keys and he figures it’s now or never. “I’m underdressed and a little drunk.”

She looks up in surprise. “That’s… actually big of you to admit it.”

“You’re overdressed and you’re a control freak.” he continues, despite all of his brain’s best attempts at telling him to quit while he is ahead. The pout is back again and he can only stare at her lips. “You’re also _really_ hot.”

“You’re drunk.” she scoffs.

“Not that much.” he shrugs. “I’m going to kiss you now. Please, if you slap me, aim for the right side, Echo already tried to claw my left eye out today.”

“I forbid you to…” she sputters but Owen doesn’t give her an opportunity to finish that thought.

Owen Grady has a danger attraction problem. First the Navy, then the SEALs, then the secret missions that have left him broken in so many pieces – not all of them physical and not all of them replaceable – and then, after that, the animals he trained for a Navy program that failed spectacularly and InGen and their crazy idea about raptors… It’s clear to him, it has been clear for a while now, that his next mad dangerous stunt would be Claire Dearing.

How could it be any different? She struts around the park all day long in those high heels of hers, she’s always bossy and demanding, sometimes borderline rude. People call her _The Ice Queen_ behind her back but Owen knows better. She isn’t ice. She is _fire_. And he can’t help but been drawn to it, just like he wasn’t able to resist the pull of the raptor squad. Give him danger and he will plunge right ahead.

Her lips are hard against his, unforgiving, and he’s about to step back and apologize – because he’s not one of those jerks who think women he takes out on a date owe something to him – when they finally part for him and too quickly to figure out how it happened, her tongue is in his mouth and he’s moaning. He loses control of the kiss right there – and, maybe, but he will only understand that later on, he loses control of the rest right there too.

He truly only intended the kiss as a peace offering, a way to obtain the right to ask her out again, perhaps not in board shorts and without an itinerary, but it doesn’t work out that way.

That kiss takes them further down the rabbit hole than either of them has planned to go that night.

He can’t stop kissing her, that’s as simple as that. They’re fighting for dominance and he is half tempted to give in, alpha or no alpha, simply because she’s beautiful and strong and he doesn’t mind taking orders when it comes from such a person. However, he confusedly senses she likes the challenge. She likes that someone stands their ground in front of her. She is used to getting what she wants, used to getting her way.

She is feared but not respected.

And Owen finds he desperately wants to give her that respect she craves.

He ends up pinning her to the car but only because she pulls him closer, her fingers tugging on the short hair at the base of his skull, her other hand fisting his shirt in a vicious grip. His own hands are roaming on her and he doesn’t mind the cocktail dress so much anymore because it is so much _easier_ to access her skin. He would be gentle with her given the choice, he would caress and kiss and _cherish_ … But that’s not what she wants. She’s ferocious and fierce and wild and when she kisses him it feels like she’s trying to devour him whole.

It’s lucky the parking lot is deserted.

He’s sure they could get arrested for that kind of public display – the Park Operation Manager and the raptors behaviorist, it would be frowned upon.

Her dress is bundled almost all the way to her waist, his fingers are exploring, pressing, learning… She hisses and whimpers and bites at his neck and it is perfect, just perfect…

“Let me take you home.” she purrs in his ear.

He wants to say it’s supposed to be his line, that it has always been his line before with all the other women he has known, but all he can do is nod because there is no way he’s making a mess of this again.

He spends the whole ride hoping she won’t second guess, lightly stroking her inner thigh, teasing and smirking every time she glances at him. It amuses him to see her squirm in her seat – and, yeah, maybe it’s not the cleverest thing to do while they’re driving in a jungle but it’s _dangerous_ and Owen can’t resist _dangerous_.

“Two can play that game.” she remarks at some point, a little out of breath, before dropping one of her hands in his lap.

“Cheater.” he accuses, letting his head fall back as she gropes him through his pants.

She laughs and he loves the sound so much he promises himself that he will find a way to make her laugh again at the earliest opportunity. Not just now though. Now all he really wants…

He doesn’t know how she knows where his bungalow is. Perhaps she knows where every employee on the island lives. She’s enough of a control freak for that, he thinks. The second the car is parked, they’re out and at each other’s again.

By the time they make it to the bedroom, they’re naked, out of breath and more than ready. She shoves him and he flops on his back on the mattress, too eager to protest the rough treatment or comment on it. Once she straddles him, he is past commenting anyway. He wants to roll them over, to take charge, his instinct demands it, but when he places his hands on her hips, intending to do just that, he glimpses the flash of insecurity in her eyes underneath the lust and he leaves her be, lets her be the alpha since she needs it so much…

He can understand needing to be in control, he has been there.

It doesn’t cost him much to give his away. She is not a threat and he can overpower her if he truly wants to. She’s aware of that too, and trust isn’t a given, it has to be earned so he submits in hope she would learn to trust him.

Sex is fantastic, as he has known it would be since the first time he has laid eyes on her.

Maybe he wears board shorts and drinks tequila and maybe she is on a diet and makes itineraries and maybe that doesn’t make for a successful date, but, _boy_ , does it make for a successful tango.

She collapses on his chest, sweaty and limp for all the right reasons, and he can’t help but chuckle, petting her hair that doesn’t look so straight anymore.

“I’m glad you didn’t slap me.” he mumbles, already giving up the helpless battle against sleep.

He’s been in the Navy too long not to wake up when she slips from his bed but he figures she’s just going to the bathroom or the kitchen.

It’s not until the next morning, when the sun spilling from the window wakes him up properly that he realizes she hasn’t spent the night at all.

He’s late to work, the girls are acting up and Barry gives him _shit_ all day about the date he doesn’t want to talk about.

He checks his phone every fifteen minutes like an enamored schoolgirl.

When two days pass without news, he tries not to feel used. After all, he probably has done the same thing countless times with a certain number of women. One night stands. Nothing wrong with that. He tries not to feel used.

He fails.

**o0°0o**

Two weeks go by without any word from Claire Dearing. He wishes he could forget that night, add to the numerous one night stands he had over the years, shove her with the faceless crowd of easy women… The truth is : he can’t. Two weeks after that night, he is still haunted by her heavy perfume, the taste of her lips, and the feel of her smooth skin under his fingertips.

It angers him that he can’t move on when she clearly doesn’t care at all.

Barry has stopped making jokes somewhere around the fourth day when he understood the matter isn’t as simple as a bruised ego. It goes deeper than that and it frightens Owen to no end. She crept under his skin.

He’s on the catwalk when he hears the car, watching the four raptors playing in the paddock with his arms crossed and chiding them when they snaps at each other instead of help each other. The game is supposed to be about pack work or team work or whatever one calls tossing footballs doomed to be eviscerated at raptors. He doesn’t bother walking down the stairs, knowing whatever it is Barry will deal with it.

“Okay, girls.” he calls out. Echo, Charlie and Delta look up at him but Blue stubbornly ignores him. She’s been acting up all week. Teenage rebellion, he and Barry call it. “Last one.”

He tosses them the last football, laughing when Echo jumps and snatches the ball from right above Delta’s nose. He shouldn’t laugh, he’s trying to train them, but he loves them so much he can’t find it in him to chide her this time around. Echo is a little _shit_ and that’s why he loves her.

When he turns around to get back on the ground and see about organizing dinner for the raptors, he comes face to face with none other than Claire Dearing, business suit, high heels, impeccable hair and all.

He almost asks her what she wants but it would make him sound too much like a wronged woman in one of those soap operas he absolutely _does not_ watch when he has too much free time.

“Hi.” he says instead.

For a split second, she looks relieved. “Hi.”

And the inevitable awkward silence falls.

“How have you been?” he asks and almost immediately slaps himself because _how cliché?_

“Oh, good.” she answers. “You?”

“Good.” he shrugs.

“Good.” she repeats.

_Awkward_.

On _so many_ levels.

She peeks past his shoulder and into the paddocks. “They’ve grown, I haven’t seen them since they were lizards.”

“Babies.” he corrects automatically, glancing at the girls. The ball lies forgotten at Echo’s feet. The four of them are looking up, staring at Claire with unblinking eyes. Weird. “Did you need something?”

Her confidence falters briefly. She’s good at hiding it. He’s equally good at reading people.

“One of our investors is being particularly difficult.” she offers, clearing her throat. “I was hoping you could come with me and explains your program.”

“It’s almost dinner time for the girls.” he points out.

“Barry said he would take care of that.” she counters.

Of course, she would have thought of that.

He follows her to her car. The silence is less awkward but not comfortable either. Night is slowly falling when the she pulls away from the raptors paddock but that doesn’t seem to trouble her. She drives as if she knows the roads by heart – and she probably does, even a bump wouldn’t dare show up on one of the park’s back road without Claire Dearing’s seal of approval. She’s _that_ scary.

When she turns left instead of right at the crossroad, he knows they’re not going to the main park. He’s surprised but only just. “There’s no investor, is there?”

“There was one.” she hums. “Very tiresome. With wandering hands too. It was a stressful day.”

“So this is a booty call.” he snorts.

“Are you complaining?” she retorts.

Any other time, he would have complained and come clean with his resenting of her sneaking out in the middle of the night like a thief, but he detects the slightest bit of insecurity in her voice, the same insecurity that has flashed into her eyes the night of their date and he holds his tongue.

It’s no use trying to wrestle the control away from her, she’s very much like one of his raptors, brutal force won’t get any result. She’s scared, he thinks, scared of losing her precious power, scared of not being in charge, scared of leaning on anyone… For the first time, he wonders if the date hasn’t been a disaster on purpose. An excuse for her to say she tried and failed but the important thing is she tried. She’s intimidating and most men need to be the dominant ones, he wonders just how many times a relationship blew up in her face because she was too demanding, too _independent_.

Like all wild animals, she needs to be tamed – not to be caged and rendered mild, not to become a circus attraction, wild animals should always been respected and allowed as much freedom as possible, but tamed enough she would trust him to let him in. He has worked with lions, panthers and tigers, he has been exhausting his ass off working with raptors, and yet he senses she will be the hardest challenge of them all.

“Pull over.” he orders.

He can _give_ her control but that doesn’t mean she can _take_ it from him. There needs to be a balance in there.

She glances at him uncertainly and stares at the road again, her mouth set in a hard line.

“I apologize, Mr Grady, I presumed too much.” She cleared her throat. “I will take you back to…”

“My name’s Owen. Pull over, Claire.” he repeats.

She glances at him again but, slowly, she stops the car on the side of the road. It’s dark by now and those roads are mostly deserted anyway. He steps out and walks around the hood to her side. She doesn’t flinch when he opens the door but her breathing is quick and when she looks up at him, it’s with equal part anticipation and confusion. The confusion disappears when he kneels next to the car, she switches in the seat so her legs are on either side of him.

“I should have asked if you wanted this, _me,_ first. I’m sorry.” she whispers.

_Progress_ , he muses.

“I want you.” he snorts. Is that even a question? “What do _you_ want?” He drops a kiss on the inside of her knee, letting his mouth trails up her thigh until he reaches the hem of the black pencil skirt. “What do you want, Claire?”

He doesn’t miss her sharp intake of breath when he presses his lips against her skin again. But he doesn’t go higher either, he waits.

“I… Make me forget?” she requests. “That man really was a creep. I hate this kind of investors. Just because I’m a woman…” She falls silent but he hears her soft frustrated sigh all the same.

“I can hold your purse and your phone while you punch him.” he suggests absent-mindedly, already focused on the task she has entrusted him with. _Making her forget._ He bets he can be good at that. First step is to get the skirt out of the way.

“Most men would offer to punch him for me.” she comments, lifting her hips helpfully when he pushes the fabric of her skirt higher on her legs. Black lace panties meet him and he licks his lips, suddenly starving for her.

“You don’t need me to do your punching.” he replies. “You can handle yourself. And if something goes wrong, I will be two steps behind you anyway.”

He’s about to kiss that black lace when she frames his face with her hands and he’s suddenly pulled up. Lips crash on his, almost violent in their eagerness, and he figures that’s a good thing, it means he said the right thing – not that it is about saying the right thing, he _means_ it, he knows she’s more than capable of defending herself. She’s Claire Dearing and Claire Dearing doesn’t need a knight in shining armor – but maybe, he hopes, she needs a raptors trainer.

He slows the kiss down but doesn’t try to take the upper hand, it’s all on her terms here. She takes the hint though and the kiss becomes less hurried, less about trying to convey that she’s the boss. He knows she’s the boss. For now, it has to be like that. With time, he can probably teach her the benefits of equality in a relationship, why it is better as a partnership, why it doesn’t have to be a dictatorship one way or the other. Why him recognizing and respecting her power doesn’t mean she has to negate his. _Baby_ _steps_.

The ground is hard under his knees and there’s a stone digging in his shin but he doesn’t complain. He kisses her as long as she lets him and when she comes up for air, he goes back to pressing his mouth against her inner thigh before she can second-guess what just happened.

It’s been a while since he has cared enough for a woman to pleasure her that way but it’s all instinct and he’s good at listening his instinct. He learns to interpret her sighs and whimpers. She’s holding back, he senses, biting her bottom lip to remain quiet, swallowing back the moans that he can hear building in her throat. He wants to make her lose her precious countenance. His hand creeps up to cup a breast, frustrated by the clothes and the bra in the way. She’s tugging at his hair, crushing his head with her thighs, forcing him closer, always so much closer…

When she comes, she comes with a soft little cry that seems to escape her.

He’s smug when he presses a last kiss there, knowing she’s still sensitive and his stubble will leave a burn. He’s smug mostly because for one tiny second, her control slipped. She eventually stops trying to crush his head with her legs, she actually looks a little self conscious about that. His legs are stiff when he gets up and he’s so hard it’s almost painful.

Her eyes dart from his crotch to the back seat, calculating. The back seat of the car would be cramped and uncomfortable, so would be the front seat, and he’s not enough of an idiot to suggest doing that on the hood – not that what they have just been doing is more clever but they _are_ on a dinosaur inhabited island with numerous employees who sometimes _do_ drive on those roads.

It doesn’t escape his notice that she doesn’t offer to reciprocate the favor.

“Can you take me back?” he asks.

She hesitates, her eyes still on the bulge in his pants. “I could take you to your bungalow if you want to… Well, it’s hardly fair, you didn’t get to…”

“I’ll take a rain check on that.” he smirks “I want to check on the girls and I need my bike anyway.”

She nods and soon enough they’re driving again. Owen leans his head against the window and tries to think about something else but the redhead next to him.

Impossible task if there ever was one.

“It went better than our first date.” he snorts, as the raptors paddock comes into view. “Maybe next time we will manage not to argue, although that would be boring, no? I like arguing with you…”

He flashes her a grin but she’s frowning, any trace of the earliest bliss washed away from her features leaving only a new odd tension.

“This wasn’t a date. We’re not dating.” she says.

“Yeah, we are.” he counters.

“No, we are _not_ , Mr Grady.” she hisses.

“Whatever you say, _Miss Dearing_.” he mocks.

There’s no one around. He pecks her lips before getting out of the car. He doesn’t look back on his way to the paddock. Barry gives him a complete glance over when he sees him and rolls his eyes.

“Not a word.” Owen warns.

“I hope it doesn’t mean two weeks of sulking again.” Barry retorts anyway.

 


	2. Chapter 2

It takes less than two weeks for her to come back, barely four days.

She insists they aren’t dating, that this is purely a physical arrangement between two consenting adults.

 _Booty calls_ , he calls it even though she wrinkles her nose every time.

She prefers _business arrangement._ It makes him feel like a prostitute.

She shows up at his bungalow or at the paddock, summons him via texts or phone calls… He hates the way she kills any intimacy that could develop between them. Personal questions are brushed aside and left unanswered, sometimes she’s so cold and distant he’s tempted to believe everyone else is right and she _is_ an Ice Queen after all… or he would be tempted if she didn’t melt against him every time they kiss.

Still, four weeks of that situation show no progress on her part. She’s still making it impossible for him to sneak past her defenses. Owen is a patient man – you didn’t get into a job like raptors training without being patient – but he’s starting to get frustrated and annoyed.

“I wouldn’t hurt you, you know.” he snaps, one night.

He’s lying on his stomach on the bed, the sheets still tangled around his legs, and she’s already dressed, already ready to leave, sitting on the edge of the bed and slipping on her heels.

She flinches.

“I don’t understand what you mean…” she starts.

“Like hell, you don’t.” he scoffs. “You’ve got walls higher than the Great Wall of China.” He props himself on his elbow and reaches out with his free hand, brushing his fingertips on the freckles on her cheeks. “You don’t have to always be the strong one. I won’t hurt you if you let me in.”

She blinks and looks down at the heels she clutching in her hands like a weapon. “If that’s because I like to be on top…”

He rolls his eyes and flops back down. “I’m not talking about sex, Claire. Although you having to be on top all the time is kind of symbolic of the rest, no? I want you to trust me, I want to earn it, but you’re not letting me.”

“I trust you.” she denies.

“No, you don’t.” he sighs. “You don’t even trust me enough to let me _hear_ you when you come.”

She flushes red in embarrassment.

“I’m not a vocal person.” she scowls. “I know it’s a turn on for some men to hear the woman they’re with moaning and shouting but I’m not like that and I make no apologies for it.” She puts on her second shoe and stands up. “Goodnight, Mr Grady.”

He follows her out of the bedroom, refusing to let her have the last word.

“You’re chewing so hard on your lip when you come I’m always afraid you’re going to tear it in two.” he argues. “It’s all about you not losing control but that’s not what sex is about, Claire. That’s not what _a relationship_ is about.”

She turns around long enough to point an accusing finger at him but never stops walking. He wonders at which point she has become comfortable enough in his house not to need to look where she’s going.

“We are _not_ in a relationship.” she hisses.

“No, we’re not. ‘Cause you won’t let us be in one.” he retorts. She slams the front door in his face but he follows her outside. “And you’re running away. Again. I didn’t think you were such a coward.”

That stops her dead in her tracks.

She’s halfway to her car and she turns on her heels to glare at him. “I’m not a coward.”

“Prove it to me.” he challenges.

She narrows her eyes.

“You are naked. _Outside_.” she points out and it’s so off topic he can’t help but snicker.

He lifts his arms and lets them drop immediately. “No one’s around. Live a little. Do you always have to be so uptight?” It’s the wrong thing to say, he knows it at once. “Claire…”

She’s gone before he can catch her and he’s left staring at her the rear lights of her car.

He tries to call her but she doesn’t pick up. He leaves messages but she never calls back.

“Sulking again?” Barry snorts the next day.

It’s a way to put it, he figures.

**o0°0o**

How is it he can deal with raptors – raptors who have sharp teeth and claws and who could bit his head off easily – but he hasn’t the first clue about how to handle Claire Dearing?

“I’m an idiot.” he confesses to Blue, a week after Claire stormed off. He has tried to contact her, he has even tried going to her office but her assistant had guarded the door more fiercely than an attack dog.

On the other side of the barred door, his beta lets out a growl and tilts her head. It sounds and looks a lot like she’s agreeing with him.

“Oh, shut up.” he grumbles, sitting down cross-legged in the dust. “She called you a lizard, you know that?” Blue’s tail sweeps the air with annoyance. It makes him chuckle. “Don’t worry, I set her straight. My girls aren’t _just_ lizards, right, baby?”

The raptor lets out a pleased noise. It isn’t long before Echo, Delta and Charlie join them, curious about what has their beta’s attention and making jealous chirping noises once they spot Owen.

“I miss her.” he confesses to his pack with a sigh. “Even if she’s unbearable most days.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

Owen has the best job in the world but he lives on an island and there aren’t many distractions to be found if you don’t want to be swamped in a crowd of tourists. Drowning his heartache in tequila in Margaritaville would be tempting but he isn’t in the mood to deal with the flirty college girls that are always glued to the bar or the family men eager to escape their wife and children for a little while. He settles for a pathetic night in with a pack of beer and re-runs of _Grey’s Anatomy_ on cable.

He’s a bottle and a half and two episodes in – rooting for Callie during one of the many arguments she has with Arizona – when he hears the knocks on the door. He turns off the TV, not keen on explaining to whoever is visiting that he secretly enjoys medical dramas – he has a reputation to uphold, thank you very much – and not impatient to deal with Barry’s taunts – because at that time of night, it can only be Barry and Barry always knows when he has been watching this sort of shows, it’s a gift the French man has.

When he opens the door though, it’s not his best friend standing on his porch but Claire. She’s wearing tight jeans and a green tank top and her hair is slightly wavy instead of the rigid straight style she usually keeps. The clothes shock him the most though. Aside for the night of their date, he has never seen her in anything but suits, blouses and straight professional skirts. He likes the casual look. He likes the fact she is still wearing heels with her casual outfit even more. He spends too long gawking at her clothes.

“Hi.” she says uncertainly.

“Hi.” he replies automatically. She looks off, her usual confidence shattered, her eyes are red as if she has been crying and her fists are clenched at her side as if she’s forcing herself not to worry her hands – a habit she wasn’t always successful at hiding on the rare occasions they have brushed personal topics she is uncomfortable with. “You’re upset.”

“I had a fight with my sister.” she shrugs, one of her hand resting briefly on the purse hanging on her shoulder betraying the presence of her phone in there. “It was… She’s thinking about getting a divorce and… Let’s just say tempers were running high.” She shuffles on her feet, glancing hesitantly behind him. “Can I come in?”

It is the progress he has been waiting for, he realizes, as he wordlessly steps aside to let her pass. She has left her battle armor behind with her perfectly tailored suits, she’s talking about a sister she has hardly ever mentioned before…

“Drink?” he offers. “I think I have wine somewhere… Or beer.”

“No tequila?” she teases with a small smile.

“Nah.” he shrugs. “I’m told it’s bad for my diet.”

Her smile grows wilder and he relaxes a little.

“Wine would be good.” she nods.

She follows him to the little kitchen and leans against the counter while he rummages around the fridge for the bottle of wine he knows is there somewhere. She’s looking through the window over the sink when he holds up the bottle in triumph and pours her a glass. She gives a sniff before taking a cautious sip and she can barely hide her wince.

“What?” he frowns. “It’s off?”

He tries to remember how long that has been in his fridge and draws a blank. It’s a gift from Barry, something directly imported from France, but Owen isn’t a great fan of wine and he only drinks it occasionally.

“I think it became vinegar.” she laughs, handing him the glass.

He tastes it and coughs at the sourness.

“Yeah, ok. Not good.” he wrinkles his nose, pouring it in the sink. “I will buy you wine next time I do groceries.”

He fully expects her to say he doesn’t have to because whatever it is they have is only a business arrangement and he is not required to provide the drinks. It seems it is a night full of surprises.

“You don’t mind me coming by, then?” she asks – and she aims for commanding, he hears it in her voice, but it comes out a little frightened all the same. “I wasn’t sure I would be welcome after last time.”

“I was out of line last time.” he offers. “I meant what I said about you and your need for control but I was out of line with the stuck-up comment.” He snorts bitterly and looks down at his feet. “Way to show you could trust me and I wouldn’t hurt you.”

“I _do_ trust you.” she whispers, taking a step closer. “I… Look, Owen…”

“Owen, not Mr Grady, that’s off to a good start.” he grins.

She rolls her eyes. “Are you going to let me speak?”

“Depends. Will I like what you want to say?” he retorts, tilting his head with a cockiness he knows will exasperate her. He can’t help it. She’s too hot when she’s annoyed.

“I never had this sort of business arrangements before.” she states, reaching for his shirt and bundling the fabric in her fist as if she’s scared he’s going to run away. He has no intention of running away. He is where he wants to be. “I had one-night stands, yes, but not… I’m not a friend with benefits person.”

“I know.” He tucks her hair behind her ear and lets his hand linger on her cheek, happy to be allowed to touch her again. He has missed her. He wants to kiss her but his instinct warns him whatever she wants to tell him is important and it is in his interest to let her speak. That’s what he has been waiting for : she’s opening up, she’s letting him in.

“I just thought…” she continues. “I don’t have the best track record with relationships and… Our date was disastrous, Owen. It was the worst date _ever_.”

“ _Ever_ is a little harsh.” he points out.

“It was the worst date in the history of worst dates.” she scoffs. “It was the _queen_ of worst dates.”

He rolls his eyes. “So maybe it wasn’t the greatest date. But we haven’t done so bad since then.”

She stares at him like he has grown a second head. “All we do is argue.”

“Which spices things up nicely.” he smirks, ogling her chest not so discreetly. He can’t help it when the tank top hugs her figure so tightly.

“Which is why I thought sticking to sex would be the best thing.” she sighs. “We have an attraction...”

His gaze falls on her lips. They’re not red today, her lipstick is a pale pink. “That’s not what you said the last time.”  

“I don’t know what you want.” she snaps with obvious frustration.

“You.” he declares very simply. “I want you, all of you.”

She tugs on his shirt harder as if in reflex and he obliges by taking a step closer, completely annihilating the concept of space between them. She keeps her eyes level when she speaks next which means she’s staring at his chin.

“I don’t know if I can do that.” she breathes out and the admission obviously costs her. “It scares me.”

“I know.” he leans in and captures her lips. She doesn’t try to take control of the kiss and he doesn’t try to deepen it. “It’s a little bit scary for me too. It’s been a while since I’ve been really interested in someone.”

“It’s not reassuring.” She finally lets go of his shirt to wrap her arms around his chest and tucks her head under his chin. He embraces her back, savoring the moment. “I would feel better if one of us was good at this.”

“I’m good at this.” he shrugs. He isn’t lying. All his relationships didn’t end badly. Things didn’t work out but it wasn’t a mess. “It has just been a while. Look, it’s all about mutual respect, Claire. In this, you’re not the boss of me and I’m not the boss of you. Just like with my raptors.”

“I’m not one of your damn animals.” she grumbles.

He snorts and drops a kiss on the top of her head.

“I’m a workaholic and I won’t ever apologize for it.” she warns. “My career comes first. If it isn’t something you can live with…”

“Claire, my job is to train four raptors. They’re little _shits_ who like to try to escape their paddock in the middle of the night. My job is always going to be a priority too.” he sighs.

She remains silent for a while but he doesn’t mind. He likes holding her, it makes for a nice change from the times she was in a hurry to flee.

“I know I’m bossy…” she says after a few minutes.

“You’re an alpha, there’s nothing wrong with that.” he chuckles. “It’s actually kind of hot.”

“Men don’t usually like it.” she points out.

“That’s because you never found another alpha.” he teases. “Lucky for you, you just got yourself one complete with a pack. I’m happy to share my girls, don’t thank me yet, they’re in the rebellious age.”

Her laugh is sweet but too rare and he relinquishes the sound of it. “Your assets…”

“ _Girls_.” he corrects firmly. “Animals if you really want to call them that but they’re not just assets, they’re more than just a number on a piece of paper and they’re more than just potential money.”

“It’s my job to think about their worth.” she counters. “You talk like Masrani. Someone has to think about the assets’ worth and the public’s satisfaction ratio because that’s what keeps the park running, Owen, that’s what makes it possible for you to _keep_ your girls.”

“Still doesn’t mean you can’t see them for what they are…” he argues.

She shifts in his arms and, for one second, he thinks they’re going to fight again and she’s going to leave and slam the door. _Again._ But he can’t bring himself to back down on this, he feels too strongly about it.

“Teenage raptors with behavior issues who are making their Daddy’s life hell?” she taunts.

And he laughs in relief because he can’t argue with _that_. “Basically, yes.”

She laughs with him and he can’t help it, he leans in and kisses her. The moment is almost too perfect.

“We’re trying this, right?” he asks, between two pecks. “This isn’t you just ringing for a booty call, we’re serious about trying this?”

“I wasn’t ringing for a booty call.” she frowns, locking her arms around his neck. “And don’t call it booty calls. I don’t have booty calls with men wearing board shorts anyway. That would be _embarrassing_.”

“It’s central America!” he exclaims. “And you’re lucky I’m wearing shorts at all. I wasn’t expecting company.”

The grin on her lips can only be described as devilish.

“How is that lucky?” she purrs.

The mood is busted by the shrill ringing of her phone. She bit on her bottom lip, already taking her arms off his neck before stopping herself hallways through. “It’s probably Karen. Do you mind if I…”

“No, go ahead.” he shrugs, stealing a last lingering kiss.

She flashes him a small smile and rummages in her purse for the phone. He leaves her in the kitchen and goes back to the living-room even though there is no real privacy to be had in his bungalow.

“No, Karen, _I_ ’m sorry… I shouldn’t have snapped at you…” He hears her say as she steps outside.

He has no experience with sisters – or family for that matter, he’s an only child and there is bad blood between him and his parents – but he senses it can take a while. There is no point in waiting around doing nothing so he picks up his now tepid beer and grabs the remote. The TV automatically displays the last channel he has been watching, he has _every_ intentions of switching channels before Claire comes back and catches him watching _Grey’s_ but the interns are at it again and he is engrossed.

It takes entirely longer than he would be comfortable admitting to notice she has slipped back inside and is watching him with a grin she is not even trying to hide.

“Having fun?” she taunts.

His eyes dart between her and the screen and he shrugs. “Wanna join?”

She looks unsure as she joins him on the couch. He wraps his arm around her shoulders, she tenses at first but slowly relaxes, curls up against his side and rests her head on his chest. It’s nice. _Cozy_. That’s the kind of dates they should be doing in future, he thinks. Going out doesn’t suit them, too much expectations. Staying in seems a good idea, there would be no need for itineraries at least.

“What are we watching?” she asks.

“ _Grey’s.”_ he answers absentmindedly.

She steals his beer and takes a long mouthful that leaves him smirking at her. So, tequila isn’t part of her diet but beer is… Interesting.

“What is it about?” she hums.

“Seriously?” he mocks. He can’t understand how someone in that time and age doesn’t know _Grey’s Anatomy_. “It’s been running for ten years.”

“I don’t have much time for TV shows. I work a lot.” she snaps defensively.

“Yeah, I noticed.” he snorts.

“What does that mean?” She’s out of his arms in a flash, sitting straight next to him on the couch and watching him with the cold and commanding posture of the senior asset manager.

“Just that it is impossible not to notice you work a lot.” he frowns. “It’s not an attack, Claire.”

He can almost see the urge to run away in her eyes. He also sees the effort she makes to suppress it. She’s out of her depths here, he figures.

“Hey, you’re a big shot, you’re good at your job, you’re committed. I get that. I _respect_ that.” he insists. “I don’t know what kind of assholes you went out with before but if I have a problem with you I will say it. I don’t do passive aggressive.”

She slowly takes the remote from his hand and switches the TV off before tossing a leg over his. For the longest time, she simply sits on his lap, her legs on either side of him, her hands flat on his chest.

“Men always say that but eventually they get tired of the boss fantasy and they expect me to put myself down to stroke their ego.” she offers. “I am the best at what I do. I worked very hard to be the best at what I do. I don’t like being told I’m too intimidating to be with just because I’m a woman. I don’t like that my boyfriend always ends up expecting me to change for him, to be _less_. I don’t want to be less. I am what I am, take me or leave me.”

Owen hates the way she can’t seem to look at him in the eyes. He gently frames her face in his hands and pulls her closer until their foreheads are pressed together and she has no choice but to look at him.

“You’re more than a fantasy and I don’t want to change you.” he says softly. “You are who you are, that’s fine with me. I’m not easily intimidated. Raptors trainer, remember?”

The joke earns him a smile but it falters before long.

“That’s what they always say and then I get hurt.” she whispers.

The surge of protectiveness is instinctive and almost dizzying. He wraps his arms around her and cradles her close.

“Forget them. They didn’t deserve you.” he growls. “They were arrogant assholes who couldn’t get their head out of their ass long enough to see you’re a badass.”

“Do you really think I’m a badass?” she asks against his neck.

“I’ve seen you walk around the park all day in six inches heels. That’s badass.” he says. “Ninety percents of the park employees are scared _shitless_ of you. That’s because they _know_ you’re a badass who will slay them if they step out of line. Masrani put you in charge of the biggest amusement park in the world, there’s a reason : you’re a badass, Claire.”

There’s a long silence and he hopes he hasn’t said the wrong thing but then she wriggles until she’s in a more comfortable position – it isn’t more comfortable for him because all the straddling and wriggling is making parts of him jump to attention.

“What about the ten percents of employees left?” she asks.

“They’re smarter than the rest and they know that there’s a woman behind the boss.” he shrugs. “They also know that doesn’t mean they can mess with you.”

“You say badass, they say bitch.” she points out. “I’m not deaf and they’re not discreet.”

“You know what happens to raptors who don’t recognize an alpha when they see one?” he switches topic.

“No.” she frowns.

“They get eaten.” he says. “The people who call you these kind of names, they’re the raptors getting eaten.”

She snorts and presses a kiss against his neck. “I think I could keep you.”

“It’s our best date yet.” he decides, drawing shapes on her back with his thumbs, inching that tank top higher with every sweep. She knows what he’s doing, he can tell from her grin, but she’s not stopping him so…

“This is not a date.” she sighs.

“You had wine, we watched a show, we’re making out on my couch… Sure seems like a date to me.” he replies. “I’m curious though. Why did you decide to come back? Today, I mean. Why not yesterday or tomorrow? What decided you?”

Trust him never to quit while he’s ahead, a reproaching voice murmurs at the back of his head.

“I wasn’t planning to.” she confesses. “I just… I might have been missing you a little?”

“I missed you too.” His fingers finally succeed in pushing the tank top high enough that he meets skin. It is still as smooth and warm as in his memories and he can’t wait to kiss every inches of it.

“Karen called, we ended up fighting, I went for a drive to calm my nerves and… I drove up here.” she explains. “I didn’t know I was coming. I would have changed.”

“Why? I like it.” he says honestly. “Casual looks good on you.”

“That’s because my casual doesn’t involve board shorts.” she declares.

“You love my shorts.” he argues, abandoning all pretense and tugging on her tank top until she lifts her arms so he can slip it over her head.

“No, I don’t.” she denies. “Take them off.”

His mouth latches on her chest and he chuckles. “I _knew_ this was a booty call…”


	4. Chapter 4

“You’ve been eaten alive.” he snorts, dropping kisses all over the mosquito bites on the small of her back.

“Whose fault is that?” she sighs, stretching her limbs lazily. He could get used to the sight, he muses, her stretching in between his tangled sheets. “I told you to buy mosquito repellants.” She rolls on her back and pulls him over her. “Now, Mr Grady… Where were we?”

Her hands aren’t hesitant anymore when they guide him on her. It’s been three weeks since they’ve decided to try this properly and she’s been making efforts, he knows, trying to let go a little more. She doesn’t feel the need to be on top every time anymore, she isn’t as self-conscious during sex and he has stopped being afraid she’s going to chew her bottom lip off every time she climaxes. She completely trusts him with her body now. Her heart is still another story…

He never asks anything in bed, he follows her lead. It’s sometimes difficult not to take charge, she never lets go of power completely, even when she lets him roll her under him, she’s still calling the shots. He only has the illusion of dominance. He never asks her to submit completely though.

He figures that’s why she’s willing to try dividing the power more equally.

They’re still struggling with control. He’s dominant in every aspect of his life, he can’t help it, it’s who he is and she’s even worse than him. She’s a complete control freak. He is chaos to her routine. They clash. But, he thinks, when they clash, it’s a beautiful wreckage.

Her nails dig in the flesh of his back when she comes with a hiss but he doesn’t even notice, too lost to his own lust and his need to get his release.

“Claire.” he groans in her neck, half in worship and half in prayer.

He collapses on her, pinning her to the mattress with his whole weigh. It takes all he has to move because he’s deliciously spent and, maybe, _probably_ , completely mad for her.

He plunged right in this relationship and it’s his fault but this thing between them is so big, so _wonderful_ , he can quite believe she’s there.

There are words on his lips. Words he wants to say but swallows back every time. It’s too soon and she will freak out. But he does mean them, _feel_ them.

“You’re not staying?” he mumbles as he feels her sneaking out of bed. He’s half asleep and too content to move. She brushes her fingers in his hair and presses a long kiss on his mouth.

“I have a meeting early tomorrow. If I slept here I would need to get up at four to go back home and get ready. I need my beauty sleep.” she explains.

“You’re already beautiful.” he counters sleepily. “You should bring clothes here. And stuff.”

There’s already a spare toothbrush in the bathroom anyway.

She doesn’t answer or if she does he doesn’t hear it because he’s fallen asleep.

It doesn’t happen at once.

It’s gradual.

First he finds a pair of jeans that doesn’t belong to him in his dirty laundry, then there is a business suit neatly pressed and immaculately white hanging behind his bathroom door, and finally a pair of pajama far too small and girlish to belong to him are waiting for him on his dresser one day. She doesn’t take over his house at once, each new item is calculated. She’s testing the water.

It’s a game he’s happy to play.

Before a month, she has brought over half of her clothes.

But it’s only when the hair straightener makes its way to his bathroom that he knows he has won the game – the hair straightener, _and_ the fact that she sleeps at his place almost every night except when she has a particularly early meeting.

**o0°0o**

It’s been two months and a half since their first date and it’s the first time he sets foot in her apartment. Well, _suite_.

It’s huge, with a perfect view on the surrounding wilderness, but he didn’t expect any less from the most expensive hotel in the park. He gives himself a tour while he waits for her to finish her phone call with her sister. He passes from the bedroom to the bathroom, studies the enormous bathtub that looks like a small pool and the Jacuzzi included with the room and moves to the living-room where Claire is pacing, wincing at whatever Karen is saying.

“I mean… Yes… Yes, it’s possible.” Claire nods, not sounding overly thrilled. “Don’t be ridiculous, you don’t need to _pay_. I will send tickets and everything. But why don’t you come too? Yes, I know I haven’t seen them in forever. Yes… No, of course. Yes, I will have my assistant mail you everything.”

He picks up a framed picture on a table at random and can’t exactly help his chuckles when he realizes it’s only a room service menu. He doesn’t know if it’s funny or sad but it’s so very _Claire_ he feels a surge of fondness.

“Listen, I have to go…” Claire sighs before rolling her eyes. “No, I’m not spending my Friday night working. I’m… Yes. Maybe. I can’t talk about that now.” She glances at Owen who folds his arms over his chest with a knowing grin. “Yes.” she sighs dejectedly. “ _Karen_! Well, yes, as a matter of fact he is.” His grin morphs into a cocky smirk and she rolls her eyes again. “I have to go. Yes, I will tell him.” She hangs up and clears her throat. “My sister says hi.”

“You told your sister about me.” he points out rather smugly.

She mirrors his position and folds her arms, almost defensive. “I mentioned I was seeing someone. You’re my boyfriend, it’s not exactly a secret.”

“Isn’t it?” He lifts his eyebrows in open curiosity. “Because we’ve not exactly been shouting it from the rooftops.”

“I like to keep things professional at work.” she retorts. “And me dating a park employee… It will start rumors. People are nasty, Owen, you don’t want to deal with what comes with sleeping with the boss. It has been a problem for me before.”

“Sleeping with the boss or with an employee?” he frowns.

“Both.” she admits. “Whatever I do they will always judge me because I’m a woman in position of power. And anyway… It’s not like we didn’t tell _anyone_ … Zara knows.”

It would be hard for her _not_ to, given that she has been known to track Claire down at the other end of the park when it is a matter of emergency and she wouldn’t answer her phone. He has lost count of the number of times the young woman has showed up on his doorstep with an apologizing smile and a file to sign or a tablet for Claire to speak to investors _immediately_. He doesn’t mind it so much. He likes Zara. She’s good company over a cup of coffee while Claire puts up a show in the next room to whoever she’s talking on the phone or skyping with. He wonders if Claire knows he’s been officially invited to her assistant’s wedding…

“Barry knows.” he shrugs. “But he won’t tell anyone.”

“I like him.” she smiles. “Maybe we could invite him to dinner one day.”

He doesn’t know what he likes more in that sentence, the _we_ or the fact that she’s talking about inviting people over to dinner like they’re a real couple. He still expects her to wake up one day, freak out and disappear from his life for a few weeks.

“So.” he smirks, glancing around pointedly. “Tell me you haven’t been living here since you moved to the island.” She has been managing the park for _years_ and that suite is so impersonal, functional and cold, he can’t wait to get out of there.

“I like my comfort.” she huffs.

“That’s not comfort, that’s a hotel room.” he argues. “My job came with a house. How come _you_ didn’t get a _mansion_?”

He is sure the daily check for a suite like this one is enough to afford a nice house somewhere in the secluded part of the island. The habitations sector for employees who didn’t commute to and from the main land every day is almost like a very small town, there are every commodities like Laundromat and grocery shops, then there are the bungalows a little out of the way like Owen’s, that are older and probably less comfortable than the rows of standard little houses employees are living in. But there are also better houses, that looked less like cardboard boxes, for upper management employees who have to be on site all year long…

“You don’t have a house, you have a _bungalow_.” she scoffs. “A bungalow with a broken shower.”

“I said I was going to fix it.” he says, rolling his eyes. “It’s just the hot water tank acting up.”

“If I have to take one more cold shower, I will call maintenance myself.” she threatens, pointing an accusing finger at him.

He lifts his hands in a peace gesture offering. “Seriously though… You’ve been living here all this time?”

“This is closer to my office and I don’t have to worry about anything.” she shrugs. “They take care of the cleaning, they have room service at any hour, there’s a pressing downstairs, and a gym in the basement… There’s even a spa. It’s perfect.”

He doesn’t even try to hide his teasing smile. “When was the last time you even took the time to go to the spa?”

“Are we leaving or are we discussing my home?” she growls, lifting an eyebrow.

“It’s not a home, it’s a hotel room.” he insists. “And I’ve got my bike so you need pants.”

Her eyes widen. “I’m not getting on that thing.”

“Come on, Claire, it will be fun.” He wriggles his eyebrows in a suggestive way only to annoy her. It works. She’s annoyed. And fighting off a smile. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“I left it in your shower.” she snorts.

She does eventually get on the bike and after a few minutes, she loosens the death grip on his torso and lets out a delighted laugh. She never sees his knowing smile when he pushes the bike faster. He knew she would like it.

“You could stay here, you know.” he offers later that night, once she snuggles against his side, her head cushioned on his shoulder. “I mean… You’re staying over almost every night anyway, my drawers are full of your stuff…”

“It’s been less than three months.” she counters. “And spending the night is very different from living together… No it’s a bad idea.”

“Too much, too fast?” he asks.

“I don’t want us to rush into things only to ruin them.” she exposes calmly. “If we… If we move forward, I want us to be sure.”

“I’m kind of sure but okay.” he shrugs. “I just hate that you don’t have a home.”

“I have a home.” she argues and he can hear the irritation in her voice.

“You have a hotel room.” he corrects her.

“You sound like my sister.” she sighs, definitely annoyed this time. “And you have a bungalow with a broken shower and the roof over the porch is leaking, it’s hardly a home.”

He drops a kiss on the top of her head but doesn’t try to catch her eyes. “Maybe that’s why I want you here.”


	5. Chapter 5

He’s training the raptors with the clicker when he hears the car coming way too fast toward the paddock and braking way too abruptly. He can’t see who it is from the cat walk but the raptors are distracted now and he swears he’s going to plant signs all down the road that leads here forbidding people from making unnecessary loud noises.

Like slamming car doors shut.

Before he can even try to get the girls’ attention back, the four of them dash to the cage’s doors. He frowns and leans over the railing to get a better view but they’re pressing against the bars, making the kind of happy noises they always save for him. Even Barry doesn’t get that sort of welcome, it’s something special, something that he’s the only one to share with the girls.

Or at least until now.

Curious and, maybe, a little jealous of whoever has captured his raptors’ attention so easily, he goes down and around the paddock to see who their visitor is. He prays all the while he won’t find Hoskins waiting there because that would just take the cake.

It’s not Hoskins though, it’s Claire.

She’s talking with Barry, occasionally glancing at the raptors who are still watching and making clicking noises at her, clearly agitated but trying hard to hide it. He should have known from the driving. She’s reckless behind a wheel when she’s angry. She looks relieved when she spots him. Barry follows her gaze and excuses himself with a mumbled apology and a sentence in French Owen only half understands.

“You’re okay?” he frowns. He wants to reach out and brush her hair away from her face but he’s a little too aware of the trainers taking a cigarette break in the shade of the trees.

“I just had the most _frustrating_ meeting.” she hisses.

“What happened?” he asks. Mindful of the trainers who are giving them odd glances he nudges her in the direction of the paddock. The raptors get even more agitated when they get closer to the bars and Owen’s frown deepens. “Wait, don’t tell me yet. I need to do an experiment. Don’t move.” Ignoring her puzzled expression and the wary glance she gives his girls, he backs away. Echo lets out a whine but turns back to Claire and nudges the bar with her head again, Charlie and Delta seem confused, they keep looking from Claire to Owen. Blue’s tail sweeps the air behind her with obvious agitation and she lets out a growl, sniffing in Claire’s direction. Owen openly laughs.

“What is so funny?” Claire asks, never taking her eyes away from the four dinosaurs. “Can you come back here? They’re making me nervous.”

“They smell me on you.” he declares, smug beyond measure. “I think they think you’re my mate. Which isn’t making Blue happy.”

Blue looks downright murderous. She is staring at Claire steadily and Owen is certain that given the possibility the raptor would go straight for the jugular not just because of the need to hunt but to ascertain her position as beta.

“That’s because she’s your favorite.” Claire argues.

“I don’t have a favorite.” he denies. Blue growls and he rolls his eyes. “But I still love you, Blue.”

A soft smile plays on Claire’s lips.

“I was warned you came with teenage raptors.” she teases. “Which one is who?”

He gives a round of introductions. Barry shows up again at some point and laughs for five minutes straight when he figures out why the raptors are so taken with Claire all of a sudden. She stays through feeding time, occasionally stepping away to answer her phone.

She’s still here by the time he’s ready to head back home which is odd because as angry as she sometimes gets after business meetings, it’s not like her to play hooky. He gives a last yearning look at the bike that will spend the night next to the paddock and gets in her car, ignoring the looks it warrants him from the staff still on site. There has been rumors for weeks anyway now and he would like to see anyone try to give him or Claire any _shit_ about this.

“I like them.” she declares, as she pulls away from the paddock in a less reckless fashion than when she has come in. “As much as you can like things with teeth and claws anyway.”

“Good thing is, they probably won’t eat you if you smell like me.” he mocks. “Ergo, we have to work on keeping my scent on you.”

She glances at him, an amused grin on her lips that tells him she isn’t oblivious at all to what he is suggesting.

“ _Or_ I could steal some of your clothes.” she counters. “I’m sure I would smell like you then.”

He winks at her. “Ah, but, babe, where would be the fun in that?”

“ _Babe_?” she repeats with a small frown.

“Not babe?” he winces.

“It’s a bit tacky, isn’t it?” she says. “And demeaning.”

“No pet names. Noted.” he shrugs.

“I’m not opposed to pet names. Just… Not _babe_.” she replies. “And _never_ in public.”

“Control freak.” he accuses with a smirk.

She takes it for the joke it is and swats at his arm playfully.

“So what was it that had you driving like a road racer?” he asks, having completely forgotten about that meeting of hers. “You were pretty upset.”

“I can’t tell you the specifics, it’s classified.” she sighs. “I’ve had my doubts about this project, Owen. It will be good for the park, I know it will, but I don’t like _at all_ InGen’s sudden interest.”

“InGen is a pain in the ass.” he agrees easily. He has his own problems with the company.

“You owe them reports as I understand it.” she comments.

He scoffs at that. “I owe them nothing. They’re just not happy about what I put _in_ the reports. They want to hear I made some progress and they don’t get we hit a wall. The girls are living beings not just statistics on their pieces of paper.”

And he isn’t sure he wants to make any more progress anyway because he just knows what Hoskins wants to do with them.

“You know, I think I will make a diet exception today.” She lets out another sigh. “I need to get drunk. Let’s find tequila.”

**o0°0o**

He rushes through the building and up the stairs, not having the patience to wait for the elevator. Her office is at the top of the building naturally, and Zara half rises from her seat when he makes a beeline for the door.

“Wait, you can’t…” she tries to stop him but it’s too late.

He barges in her office like he has sworn to never do, knowing it will piss her off and rightly so, but unable to stop himself.

Claire is at her desk, her phone stuck to her ear. She takes one look at his face and quickly holds her hand to prevent him from speaking. “I’m so sorry, Mr Masrani, I will have to call you back.”

He waits until she has hung up before he starts fuming, pacing the length of the room. Her office is spacious. Aside for the desk with the computer and the wall of drawers full of files behind her, there is a corner with two couches, two armchairs, a coffee table and an impressive mini-bar. It’s an office made for business meetings with very wealthy people and that suits him fine because it means he has more room to pace.

“I’m so sorry, I couldn’t stop him.” Zara says almost shyly.

“It’s alright. Hold my calls, please.” Claire sighs. Her assistant is quick in nodding and closing the door behind her. “Owen, you can’t just barge in like this any time you…”

“Get Hoskins off my back or I will make him raptors meal.” he growls, so much angry he is shaking with fury. “Do you know what he wants to do with my girls? _Do_ _you_?”

She bites her bottom lip and walks around her desk, leaning against the hard wood as if she doesn’t quite dare approach him right now.

“There has been talks about a military…” she begins and it makes him see red.

“And you’re alright with it?” he snaps, turning on her. “You’re alright with _that_? And I’m not saying that because of my girls, Claire, this is the most _fucked-up_ idea they ever had. They’re wild _animal_ s.”

“You can tame lions…” she points out.

“Raptors aren’t lions.” he shouts. “And you won’t send my girls out there, you got it?”

She purses her lips and folds her arms over her chest. “ _I_ will certainly not. But all I can do is back you up, here, Owen. I’m not in charge of InGen and there is nothing I can do about Hoskins. I wasn’t thrilled with the raptors idea to begin with. It takes a lot of money and it doesn’t make any come in.”

The laugh that escapes him is bitter and rough. “Great. _Fucking_ great. So now my program’s a liability?”

“Financially, yes.” she shrugs. “Look, Owen, I understand…”

“No, you don’t.” he cuts her off. “You _don’t_.”

“You’re being unfair… I know what they mean to you.” she whispers, looking down and away from him.

And she has a point, he figures. If anyone knows what the girls mean to him, it’s her. Yet she’s standing there, looking like Miss Corporate in chief in her expensive straight black skirt and white blouse and he can’t help but be resentful of it all.

“I hate that man.” he spits out.

“You and me both.” she snorts. “When he talks to me, he talks to my breasts.”

As if he needs any more reasons to hate Hoskins…

“Look, I know you’re big on defending yourself but can I punch this one?” he asks because he dreams of the day he will finally get to put his fist in his face.

“Technically, he is your superior.” she sighs. “I can’t encourage you to punch your superior. Or anyone really.” Her red painted lips twitch with amusement. “Although I’m tempted to make an exception.”

He can’t laugh it off. Not when Hopkins is practically drooling over his girls – _all_ of his girls apparently.

“He won’t be able to do anything now, Owen. Everybody knows the raptors aren’t ready. We’re barely talking about making them an attraction…” she insists.

“I still say that’s a bad idea.” he grumbles.

“And _I_ still say we need to get some money out of that project.” she retorts. “Besides, it would make it difficult for InGen to claim them away. Make them a well-loved public attraction, make sure everyone learn their names… A lot of people come to the park to see Rexie, she’s a star in her own right.”

He rolls his eyes even though she, _again_ , has a point. Trust Claire Dearing to not care about any of the dinosaurs but the _fucking_ T-Rex.

“Come on, Owen…” she breathes out, resting a hand on his arm. It does little to calm him. “What can I do to make you feel better? Anything you want.”

He kisses her.

It’s brutal and messy and she tries to slow it down but he doesn’t let her. He pushes her against her desk, ignoring the pile of files that topples over.

“I meant tonight.” she says between two kisses “We can’t do that here. It’s… I have work to do and…” He moves his mouth to her throat. “Owen, I’m serious, this is _not_ happening here. I…” Whatever she was going to say turns into a moan when he reaches the spot behind her ear that always makes her cave, and she surrenders with a whimper. Suddenly, her fingers are fumbling with his belt. “Alright, but make it quick. We…”

“Stop.” he orders.

He has never given her that sort of commands before and she looks up, confused. He takes her hands away from his belt and kisses her again, taking his sweet time. The door is not locked and Zara is known to come in and out with little warning so he doesn’t dare take off her blouse but it doesn’t stop him from popping off the first few buttons. He can’t get much access to her breasts but it’s enough. He pushes her skirt up and her underwear down. She lets him, watching him the whole time like a doe caught in headlights.

“Turn around.” he requests. It’s not as demanding but it is not open to suggestion either. He has always been careful to keep his dominant side under wrap, particularly when sex is concerned because she’s peculiar about being commanded and she’s easy to spook. Right now though, he is angry and he needs an outlet.

“Owen…” she hesitates.

“Trust me.” he growls, nipping at her neck. It’s been three months and a half, if she still doesn’t trust him now… “I want you. I _need_ you.”

She buries her fingers in his hair and brings his face up, stealing a kiss. Then she turns around and the sound that leaves his throat is halfway between a groan and a moan.

He would have been lying if he had pretended fucking her bent over her desk wasn’t a dear fantasy of his.

The sex is particularly good but it’s not the amazing part. The amazing part is it’s the first time she completely give up control to him. And when they’re done, she buries her face in his neck while he straightens her clothes for her, clearly embarrassed because there is _no way_ Zara didn’t hear her shout of ecstasy and that will be awkward to explain. He presses a kiss against her hair and whispers a _thank_ _you_. He doesn’t mean thank you for the sex, even if it was great sex, and he knows she knows that.

“It’s still scary.” she confesses.

“Too scary?” he frowns.

She pecks his lips with calm determination. “I’m a badass. I can handle it.”

He laughs in delight at that because he believes with all his being that there is nothing Claire Dearing can’t do.

**o0°0o**

That night, she takes him by surprise while he’s watching another TV show that most men wouldn’t admit to watching – they have a pact though, he doesn’t complain about her bringing work home and she doesn’t tell anyone what he’s watching while she does said work.

He’s focused on the TV, occasionally sipping the cold beer in his hand. Last time he saw her she was making phone calls in the bedroom but suddenly she’s there, on his lap, straddling him and pushing him down on the couch. He doesn’t protest, content to simply follow her lead.

He knows what this is and he is fine with it. She needs to be certain he isn’t going to steal her power away _all the time_ , that what happened earlier was an occasional thing, that she still has control if she wants it. He wishes she would just trust him but he understands it’s something she has to check several times over. It’s all about balance. Clearly, whatever asshole she has been with before him had never heard of the term. He doesn’t think he’s entitled to give her orders just because she is with him, he doesn’t expect her to _obey_ his whim. She is his partner, not his dog. She belongs to him but only as much as he belongs to her, it’s a mutual agreement. They entrust their freedom with each other. It’s a fragile thing. They’re both too wild not to bolt away if the other abuses it.

When she collapses on his chest, satisfied at last, all sweaty and panting, he wraps his arms around her and pets her hair slowly until she gets her breath back. Then he finally says the words he keeps swallowing back for some time now.

“I love you.”

Her breath catches in her throat and for a second, he’s afraid she’s going to choke to death – difficult to explain to the authorities, that – but then she goes absolutely still. He is reminded of a prey trying to avoid the attention of the predator chasing it.

“Relax, Claire, I’m not expecting you to say it back.” he snorts. He wishes it hadn’t come out that pained.

“I… I want to. I’m not there yet.” she winces.

“It’s fine.” he promises. He hears her open her mouth and he closes his eyes. “Please don’t say thank you.”

She sits up, her hands on his chest, looking all indignant. “I wasn’t going to!”

She’s _fucking_ beautiful.

He’s taken by the sight. Her red hair that’s starting to wave from the humidity, her bright eyes, her lips… He’s in love with her. He’s completely irremediably in love with her.

“It doesn’t have to be weird.” he shrugs. “So, what? I love you and you’re not there yet but I was already committed when you were still at the friends with benefits stage. Clearly, I’m far more invested in this relationship.”

He’s only joking but she doesn’t quite pick up on it.

“I’m invested.” she protests with a small pout.

“Yeah, I know, I mean…” he hesitates. “You have your control issues.”

“And you don’t?” she mocks.

“It doesn’t scare me as much.” he replies, poking her in the side. “You’re not scary to me.”

She bats his finger away but she’s serious when she locks eyes with him. “I’m not scared of _you_. I have never been scared of _you_. I just… I need time. I’m sorry, I know that’s not what anyone wants to hear after saying… _what_ _you_ _said_ but I need time. Relationships are difficult for me.”

“I get it.” he offers, reaching out to brush the hair away from her face. “I’m just saying. It doesn’t have to be weird.”

“You’re the one making it weird right now insisting it shouldn’t be weird.” she retorts. “And it’s not like… Look, I’m not ready to say it back but it’s not like I don’t have feelings for you.”

He lifts his eyebrows, a pleasantly surprised smile appearing on his lips. “You have feelings for me?”

“Please!” she scoffs. “I’m practically living in your unsanitary bungalow, do you think I would do that for _just_ anybody? You have no water pressure in that shower, Owen, _no_ water pressure. And don’t get me started on the mosquitoes. I don’t have mosquitoes in my suite, you know. I’m braving the mosquitoes for you!”

“Are you, now?” he chuckles.

“My blood is sweet. They want to eat me alive.” she complains with a dramatic sigh. “And yet I still come here.”

“The shower and the mosquitoes…” he nods. “What else?”

“Cuddling.” she answers at once, with such ease he understands it’s something she really has thought about. “Usually, I hate cuddling. It’s a waste of time and it’s uncomfortable most of the time. But with you… I don’t hate it with you.” As if to prove her point, she lies back down on his chest and he wraps his arms around her once more. “I know people like to say I’m dead inside but I don’t lack feelings, Owen. Certainly not for you.”

He doesn’t really know how to answer that so he settles for a kiss on the top of her head. “Good. ‘Cause I don’t lack feelings for you either.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

He’s slumped on her bed, too tired to even think about making the journey back to his bungalow. They hardly stay at her place, partly because Owen more or less hates the impersonal cold suite and partly out of a tacit agreement to be discreet about their relationship. Her hotel is hardy discreet. But that night, he had to bring in some reports and he is too exhausted to go back.

He has barely seen her in the last two weeks. She’s been on a trip to San Diego for two days and then has buried herself in her office for business meetings which means she has been staying in the main park instead of making the long drive to his bungalow every night. It’s mostly fine because he has finally been making some progress with the clicker and he has spent a lot of time at the paddock, sometimes going as far as sleeping in his office.

He wonders if it would be pathetic if he simply fell asleep when they haven’t had sex in at least fifteen days and he finally has her all to himself. But he is _tired_ , his whole body hurts and aches, his muscles are sore… It’s a massage he needs and the fact there’s a spa somewhere in the building is actually tempting for a minute or two.

“Absolutely, Mr Masrani.” she says as she comes in, rolling her eyes at him about whatever Masrani is babbling about. He has _a lot_ to babble about. She’s been on the phone for twenty minutes. “I believe we can open in a three to four weeks span providing that we find more investors.”

There is a pause she spends rummaging in her drawer for shorts and a tee-shirt. That settles it then, he thinks. She’s as tired as he is and they won’t have sex. They’ve become one of those couples who don’t have sex anymore.

He’s almost relieved he doesn’t have to push his body that close to the limit. He can’t remember the last time he slept in a proper bed.

“Certainly.” she answers to whatever question her boss asked. “Happy? Well… I suppose she _is_ happy.” She hesitates a second, he knows because she bites down on her bottom lip. “Mr Masrani… There _are_ some concerns… She’s aggressive.” She starts unbuttoning her blouse and Owen props himself on his elbows because there is no reason to miss such a good show. “Yes, so is the T-Rex but… You have to understand people are scared to work with her, I had to double the handlers’ paycheck. Their descriptions of the asset are… non-flattering.” She drops the skirt and underwear and slips on the shorts, all the while gritting her teeth at whatever Masrani is saying. “The sibling… Yes, about that… Well, it would be easier to show you. Yes, I know. Spare no expense.”

Owen snorts, wondering if her boss can hear the heavy layer of sarcasm in her voice.

“Of course.” she says, more pleasantly. “I have several investors meetings this week and I can brief you on Friday when you visit the park. A visit to the asset can certainly be arranged. Yes. Naturally. Goodnight to you too, sir.”

She hangs up and tosses the phone on the nightstand with a deep sigh, before taking off her blouse and her bra and replacing them with a tee-shirt that, now that he thinks about it, belongs to him.

“ _Spare_ _no_ _expense_.” she mutters. “When we’re all broke and living in the streets, we will see if he still thinks the same way.”

“You’ve got a long way to go to be broke.” he teases. “And you can always live with me if you’re homeless. I will support you like the great boyfriend I am.”

“It’s not funny, Owen.” she hisses. “Maybe, I’m financially secure but not everyone in the park is. Do you know how many people we employ? How many people _depends_ on the park making benefits? When a park doesn’t make money anymore, we start cutting people off. And there is nothing I hate more than firing someone who doesn’t deserve it.”

She settles against his side with a sigh and, for the first time, he starts to understand why she cares so much about her spreadsheets and her numbers. It’s not just about her career. It’s also because she feels _responsible_ for the people working at the park.

He feels stupid for not having realized before.

“Is it that bad?” he frowns.

“No…” she admits, resting her head on his shoulder. “But it could be in a couple of years. Hopefully, this new attraction will bring more people in.”

“What is it?” he asks, curious. He has heard her rant in her phone about the project enough times. Never anything specific, of course, the whole thing is confidential and she has always been vague about it but he knows enough to understand she’s conflicted about it. On one hand, she’s certain it will bring money in, on the other… Sometimes when he hears her talk or ask about that new mysterious asset, she sounds almost scared.

“I can’t tell you.” she replies. “But we’re getting ready to open. You will find out soon anyway.”

“Okay.” he shrugs.

“I won’t be really free this week either.” she continues. He detects a hint of nervousness in her voice. “My nephews arrive on Friday.”

“Oh. Do I get to meet them?” He hasn’t heard a lot about her nephews. All he knows about her family is that her sister’s name is Karen and she is about to get a divorce and it’s all very complicated because of the kids. That sums it up.

It doesn’t bother him because he’s not sure she knows a lot more about her family. She hardly ever leaves the island and living on Islar Nublar is like living outside the real world.

“I don’t know, Owen.” she answers truthfully.

It hurts him more than he lets on that she wouldn’t seize this opportunity to introduce him to her family but he doesn’t say anything. He simply shrugs. “Okay.”

**o0°0o**

He’s working on his bike when he hears her car. She’s driving fast and too recklessly for his tastes, which means she’s not in a good mood.

He’s surprised she’s even here. They have exchanged a couple of texts that morning but between her meetings and her nephews, she has been clear there would be no time to see him that day. She’s barely out of the car before she starts talking about their new asset – and he _does_ correct her again but using the term dinosaur is apparently too much to ask.

“Mr Masrani wants me to consult with you.” she finishes.

“Do you want to consult here on in my bungalow?” he taunts, amused despite himself by how riled up she is.

“It’s not funny.” she snaps.

“It’s a little funny.” he smirks. She purses her lips but he can see the annoyance and the exhaustion on her face. “Okay, fine. I’m coming. Let’s go see your mysterious dinosaur.”

“You should change your shirt. They’re sensitive to smell.” she snorts. “Actually, you have time to take a shower.”

“Are you saying I smell?” he chuckles, stealing a kiss – but careful not to touch her because his hands and his clothes are covered with grease and he knows that if he stains her white outfit there will be hell to pay. He _does_ smell. Working with raptors under the hot sun all day and then tinkering with his bike under the same sun have left him sweaty.

“I’m saying I could use a shower too.” she retorts, leading the way inside. “But we have to be quick.”

They are quick. Mainly because his water tank only has so much hot water and she insists on him being careful not to get her hair wet. Still, it’s been long enough since their last time that he is relieved when he buries himself inside of her. They don’t last long anyway.

“My nephews are here.” she mumbles against his neck, as they recover. “And it’s a disaster. I don’t know what to tell them. I don’t know _them_. And I thought they would be happier around the park with Zara but Karen just called and I promised I would take the day off to take care of them but I don’t know how to take care of kids, Owen…”

He swallows back his chuckles because he knows she will only whack his arm and storm off in fury if he mocks her right now. “How old are they?” He understands the problem when, instead of giving him their ages, she gestures with her hand to give him an approximation of their height. “You don’t know how old your nephews are?”

She buries her face in his shoulder with a whimper. “I’m a horrible aunt.”

“Well… _Yeah_.” he says because there’s no lying about that, not knowing the ages of her nephews makes her a not-so-great aunt. She lets out another distressed whimper. “It’s fine, it’s fine… Look, let’s take care of your dinosaur and then we will take care of your nephews. What did you say it was again?”

“Indominus Rex.” she answers, stepping out of his arms with obvious regret.

“I don’t know this one.” he frowns.

“That’s because we made it from scratch.” she sighs. “I told you, we needed something new.”

“Dinosaurs aren’t _wow_ enough anymore?” he scoffs, slightly unsettled. Something made from scratch… What does that even mean? “And you called him _Indominus Rex_ …”

“You should hear a four years old try to say Archaeornithominus.” she retorts.

“You should hear _you_ try to say it.” he mocks.

She makes a face at him. “She’s a _she_ anyway.”

“Of course, she is.” he snorts.

She briefly calls her nephews while he gets ready and he listens as she gently but firmly chides them for ditching Zara somewhere. They’re almost done with the gyrospheres as far as he can figure out and she tells them to go find Zara as soon as they’re done so she can meet them somewhere.

“They seem happy to spend time with me.” she declares once she has hung up, leaning against the bathroom door frame. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah.” he nods, grabbing his sleeveless leather jacket.

He tries to get her to tell him what this thing is made off on the way to the top secret paddock but her lips are sealed and he soon grows worried. She, on the other hand, has _other_ worries.

“What am I going to do with them?” she asks, biting on her bottom lip.

“Show them around the park.” he shrugs. “Get them to the head of the queues, show them behind the scenes, I bet they would love the control room… We can get them to the raptors paddock if you want. _That’s_ behind the scenes.”

“And insurance _nightmare_.” she scoffs. “Not to mention Karen will have my head on a plate if she finds out I let them near carnivorous dinosaurs.”

He rolls his eyes. “First, the insurance doesn’t have to know. Second, _your sister_ doesn’t have to know. Third, I can promise you nothing will happen to the boys. I’m not saying push them in the paddock, it’s safe to watch from a distance. Plus, it will make you the cool aunt.”

“You just want to meet them.” she argues.

“I’m curious.” he admits with a sheepish smile.

“Let me think about it.” she sighs, as she parks next to the paddock. “This day is hell, Owen. Not only have I no idea what to do with my nephews but I had to listen to Masrani lecture me about not being so uptight about control when he was piloting a helicopter I was sitting in. He _doesn’t_ know _how_ to pilot a helicopter.”

“Hoskins dropped by.” he snorts as he gets out of the car. “Does it beat your day?”

“We should have stayed in that shower.” she declares.

And, as it turns out, she was even more right than she knew at the time.

“What do you mean it’s _not_ _here_?” she hisses at the technician in charge of the cage.

“I can’t get a thermal signature.” the man panicked. “The cage is empty.”

It takes all she has for her to remain calm and professional, he can see it. It’s not good though. The smashed glass, the claw marks on the wall, the fact that the dinosaur has been raised in isolation, that she ate her sibling, that she understood where the food is coming from…

“She was here earlier!” Claire snaps. “I was here…” She checks her watch. “…two hours ago and she was here.”

“I don’t know what to tell you.” the technician stutters.

“Did you leave?” Owen asks. “Did you take a break? She escaped it must have made some noise. How does a _fucking_ dinosaur escape unnoticed?” 

Claire is already on the phone with the control room, anxiously asking them for a status report.

“Open the cage.” Owen orders because he needs to take a closer look, to figure out how she managed to escape…

“No!” Claire counters that, her hand outstretched. “The tracker says she’s still in there.”

“I have no thermal signature.” the technician insists.

“Maybe the instruments are not working properly.” Claire shrugs. “Lowery says the tracker is working and she’s still in there.”

Owen peers at the greenery inside the cage but doesn’t see anything. “It looks empty.”

“She can camouflage.” Claire says.  

“What is she made of?” he frowns. “If she can camouflage… Can she regulate her own temperature?”

She looks taken aback for a second and relies the question through the phone. After a few seconds, she nods at him.

“She wants us to think she has escaped. She wants us to open the cage.” he guesses. “It’s a trap.”

“Are you saying she’s doing this on purpose?” she asks. “That’s crazy, Owen! She’s just an animal.”

“She’s not _just_ an animal. She’s _something_ you _created_.” he argues. “Who knows how clever this thing is?”

Her eyes dart behind him to the cage and back, but she’s distracted by whatever someone is saying in her phone. She licks her lips and hands him her cell phone.

It turns out Masrani wants him to do a complete tour of the paddock and check the security. He can already tell what they have in place won’t be enough. If that thing is clever enough to pull that sort of stunt, it won’t stay in there for long once she decides she truly wants out.

 


	7. Chapter 7

It takes him three hours to completely check everything and he’s not really reassured when he hitches a ride back to the main park.

Tracking Claire down isn’t difficult when you have friends in the right places. According to Zara, she took her nephews to the aviary. It’s a big place to look for people but she stands out in the middle of the tourists; her red hair and her white business suit giving her away. There’s a kid latched on her arm, enthusiastically showing her something in a booklet before pointing out to one of the dimorphodons soaring above them. Claire doesn’t quite seem to know what to do and regularly exclaims with entirely too much cheer to be sincere. There’s another kid lurking nearby, older, a teenager, busier typing on his phone than looking at the dinosaurs. Maybe Claire is right and they’re not _wow_ enough for regular people anymore.

She looks relieved when she spots him.

“What did you think?” she prompts without even a greeting.

“You need higher walls.” he shrugs. “And thicker. The glass in the observatory needs to be replaced and she needs to be studied before you open to the public. She needs her own behaviorist because as far as I can tell, she’s unpredictable and that’s not good.” He has gotten a peek at her. At some point she has apparently realized her plan has failed and they wouldn’t open the cage and she has stopped hiding. She was huge and scary and absolutely too big for such a small place. The intelligence shining in her eyes as she has studied him through the separation glass has chilled him to the bones. “I think you should move her to a bigger paddock too. The _spare no expense_ thing? If you’re serious about keeping her in the park, that’s something you want to follow this time. She’s highly dangerous.”

She nods. “I need a written report.”

“I will send it.” he agrees. “I stopped by the control room and I told Masrani already. Can you guess what he asked me?”

“If you wanted to be her behaviorist?” she offers without the smallest hesitation. “Well, you’re the best choice.”

He shakes his head. “It has to be full time, we can’t take that sort of risk. And I already have a full time job.”

“Hi.” the kid with the booklet said firmly, obviously a little annoyed that he has come to interrupt his day with his aunt.

“Hi.” Owen answers. “Sorry. I’m being rude. Owen Grady.” He outstretches his hand and the kid shakes it with all the serious a grown up would use. “I work with your aunt.”

“Mr Grady is a colleague.” Claire adds quickly.

“That’s what I just said.” he grins.

She glares.

The two brothers share a look.

“I’m Gray.” the younger one volunteers.

“Zach.” the teenager offers, shaking his hand too.

“And how old are you two?” he asks innocently enough.

“Twelve.” Gray says.

“Seventeen.” Zach answers.

Owen shots a triumphant look at Claire who purses her lips so tight it promises retribution later on.

“What do you do in the park?” Gray asks excitedly. “Do you take care of the dinosaurs or are you in the offices like Aunt Claire?”

“I’m a raptor trainer.” he explains. That seems to get even Zach’s attention and maybe dinosaurs are _wow_ enough after all because he is faced with so many questions and exclamations that “it is so cool” he doesn’t know what to do with them. “Look, it’s almost feeding time…” He searches Claire’s eyes for permission and she nods briefly, obviously eager to please her nephews. “Do you guys want to take a look?”

It turns out the boys are _eager_ to take a look and they’re good kids. They do as they’re told and stay back but admire his girls enough that Owen’s friendship is already won. Afterwards, once the raptors are fed and in their harnesses, he patiently answers their questions and explains that the harnesses are used to check them over in case they needs health care or grooming…

“Or petting.” Barry adds helpfully, scratching Delta’s neck.

“They’re little _shits_.” Owen snorts, slowly stroking Blue’s head.

He has insisted on the boys remaining way out of reach, behind the safety line he has put in place for new handlers who don’t know yet that the wrong move could cost them an arm.

“Who’s the alpha?” Gray asks.

“I’m their alpha.” he answers, cooing gently at Blue who’s giving small nudges through the harness, demanding more petting. “Blue’s the beta.”

Echo is unsettled. She keeps letting out whining noises and she doesn’t calm down when he pets her. She keeps struggling against the harness, trying to stretch her neck in the boys direction.

“What’s wrong, baby girl?” Owen frowns, meeting Barry’s eyes over the raptor’s head. “Maybe we should call the vet.”

He would think she’s seeing the boys as preys but it’s not her usual hunting noises.

“Elle veut sa maman.” Barry laughs suddenly. “Sorry, Owen, I think this one’s not a Daddy girl.”

It takes him a few seconds to catch up but when his eyes fall on Claire who’s been sending mails the whole time, taking advantage of the fact her nephews are distracted to take care of some business problems, he understands what Barry means. Echo has always been the most partial to Claire’s presence. She likes his mate.

“Claire?” he asks innocently enough that she doesn’t even look up from her phone.

“Yes?” she hums.

Echo lets out another pleading clicking noise.

“How would you like to pet a raptor?” he smirks.

She does look up then, her eyes darting from him to the raptor he’s standing next to. She relaxes a little when she sees it’s Echo. For some reason, she seems less afraid of her than the others. Her initial reaction is to refuse, he can see it clearly, but her nephews are looking at her with open admiration and awe and she winces. “Is it safe?”

“I think she wants you.” he shrugs.

Claire approaches with caution and reaches out warily. The second her hand makes contact with Echo’s skin, the raptor calms down, nudging the harness like the others for more scratching in her favorite spots.

“Echo has the best taste.” Owen snorts.

Claire rolls her eyes but her smile is pleased.

Of course, once the other girls realize Claire is petting Echo, they know no peace until she has spent a few minutes with each one of them. Blue acts all disinterested but she snarls when Claire tries to pass in front of her without scratching her on the head. Since they always growl and try to snap their jaws at anyone who isn’t Owen or Barry, he finds it very cute and endearing. And maybe a little hot too.

“They’re like big cats.” Gray laughs as the all exit the paddock to get back to Claire’s car.

“Big dangerous cats with claws and teeth.” Owen tempers his enthusiasm. “And deadly. They’re not like this with just anyone and I wouldn’t recommend trying that with a wild raptor. We’ve been taking care of them since they hatched, that’s why they let us close. And I’m their alpha so I get privileges.”

“Do you spend a lot of time with the raptors too, Aunt Claire?” Zach asks, sounding curious and dubious all at once.

“Can you drop me home?” Owen asks, preventing her from answering the awkward question. “Barry’s going back to the park tonight and I left my bike at the bungalow earlier.”

“You’re not eating with us?” Gray frowns, sounding disappointed.

“I…” he hesitates, not sure how welcome he would be at dinner.

“You can come if you want to.” Claire offers. He can almost hear the “please, come, I can’t handle them on my own” so he nods.

“Okay. I still need to swing home, though, I will need my bike later.” he shrugs.

“You have a _bike_?” Zach asks.

And the whole drive from the paddock to his bungalow is spent talking about raptors and bikes and Claire’s desperate attempts at finding out where the boys would like to eat tonight – because they have the finest restaurants on the island – are crushed when they both decide on room service pizza. Owen offers to grab his Xbox while he’s at his bungalow, a suggestion that is approved by everyone but Claire who shakes her head.

When he gets out of her car, promising to join them a little later for dinner, he hears the “Your boyfriend is _so_ badass!” Zach doesn’t really keep quiet.

He isn’t sure if she corrects the boyfriend part or not.

**o0°0o**

It turns out Claire is very good at video games. She teams up with Gray and kicks his and Zach’s asses. _Twice_.

At some point her phone rings and she leaves the game to pick up.

“They’re still alive.” she laughs in her phone. “No dinosaur on the loose, no disaster, and I think they had fun. Wait… Gray, do you want to talk to your mom?”

Owen can help but chuckle when Gray practically tears the phone from her hands.

“Mom, it’s so cool! I want to stay _forever_!” the boy shouts before proceeding to give his mother a detailed account of _everything_ they have done that day. Zach meets Owen’s eyes and lets out a painful sigh, as if to say ‘little brothers, what can you do?’ and they resume their game. Claire props her hip behind him against the back of the couch and she’s close enough that it’s distracting. “And then Aunt Claire took us to the aviary and I saw dimorphodons and pteranodons and do you know the difference between the two?” Gray continues. “And then her boyfriend took us to see the raptors….”

“Gray!” Claire gasps.

For a second, he thinks it’s because the kid has called him her boyfriend and it’s a subject they have happily avoided and ignored all evening.

“Oops.” Gray winces. “I wasn’t supposed to talk about the raptors part. But it was so cool, mom! And Uncle Owen is _so_ great!”

Owen’s eyes widen comically at that title he doesn’t really deserve yet. Claire is so red in the face he’s afraid she’s going to explode and Zach mercifully presses pause, too busy laughing to take advantage of the situation and kick his ass.

“He’s a raptor trainer.” Gray says, before furrowing his eyebrows, studying him. “He’s tall, he has brown hair, blue eyes, he has a mustache… No, not like that, more like…”

Claire snatches the phone from his clutch before he can finish the comparison that, Owen feels, wouldn’t have been nice to hear.

“Are you done using your son to get information about my private life?” she grumbles. She pauses long enough to listen to what her sister has to say and then rolls her eyes. “Well, you can ask _me_.”

“It’s alright, you can tell your sister I’m eye candy.” he mocks.

“ _Gross_.” Zach declares. “Aunt Claire, tell mom Uncle Owen rides a bike!”

The teenager’s voice is loud enough that it carries to Karen because next thing Claire is gritting her teeth and pinching the bridge of her nose. “He _does_ ride a bike.” Pause. “Of course, I didn’t let your sons ride a bike! I’m not completely clueless.” Pause. “Well, they weren’t supposed to _tell_ you about the raptors. It was safe though, Owen was here the whole time.” Pause. “A bike. I’m not a bike specialist.” Pause. “Yes, I have been on it.” Pause. “ _Karen_!”

Owen can’t wait to meet her sister. She seems very fun.

“Okay, okay, we can talk about that _later_ , when your kids aren’t right next to me.” she declares. “Here, talk to your son. And _not_ about my boyfriend.”

She hands the phone to Zach and makes a tactical retreat to her bedroom. He’s absolutely conscious she’s running away but he has no intention of letting her. He follows her, ruffling Gray’s hair on his way.

She’s pretending to tidy up her drawers which is ridiculous because there’s a cleaning service and maids swing in and out of her suite at least twice a day.

“I love it when you call me your boyfriend.” he smirks, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind.

“My nephews are in the next room. No funny business.” she warns.

“Can’t I kiss my _girlfriend_?” he snorts, dropping a few kisses down the side of her neck.

“Sometimes I wonder how old you are…” she comments but tilts her head all the same to give him better access. “I’m sorry about the uncle thing.”

“It’s fine.” he shrugs “I’ve never been anyone’s uncle before. It’s fun.”

“If your nephews had called me their aunt I would have panicked.” she sighs, leaning back against his chest.

“No, you wouldn’t have.” he denies, pressing a lingering kiss on her pulse point. “You know how I know? ‘Cause you thought the I-Rex had escaped and you remained completely calm. You could face a _fucking_ cataclysm without blinking, Claire Dearing, and I love that about you. I love you.”

He catches her lips in a soft kiss and he feels her melt against him.

“Do you love me enough to go paddling tomorrow?” she hums, turning around in his arms and catching his earlobe between her teeth. She knows it drives him mad and since this is not about _funny business_ , he also knows she’s trying to distract him.

“Paddling?” he frowns.

Her lips trails up his jaw all the way to his mouth and he stops worrying when she kisses him slowly.

“The boys wants to do the Cretaceous Cruise.” she explains between two long kisses. That’s a distracting technique that should really have been outlawed. “But children need to be accompanied by an adult and they’re both minor. _Uncle_ Owen.”

He sighs. “Are you coming with us?”

“What do you think?” she scoffs.

He opens his mouth to tell her exactly what he thinks but a voice from the threshold interrupts them.

“Yeah, they’re kissing and doing mushy stuff.” Gray tells his mom.

That’s the story of how Claire spends the next fifteen minutes locked in the bathroom talking to her sister on the phone. Owen is very sure they’re talking about him.

That’s also the story of how he goes paddling in a kayak down a prehistoric river while she waits in the control room, drinking her expensive double latté from Starbucks.

**o0°0o**

The kids stay for five days.

Owen ends up doing the Cretaceous Cruise three times.

It’s not as weird to be called “Uncle Owen” as it was the first time even though Barry won’t let him live it down.

All in all, they have a lot of fun and he’s sad to see them go.

“I’m going to miss them.” he confesses, on the ferry back to the island after making sure the boys got on their plane. Before, she would have charged Zara – or Owen – to see to that but she has grown attached to the boys. In a real way, not in a love-from-afar-aunt-way. She even promised them to visit and call more often. He doesn’t know how long those promises will hold faced with the pressure her work puts on her but they’re, at least, sincere.

“Karen insists it’s good practice.” she chuckles.

“Practice…” he repeats. “For when we have kids?”

Suddenly, there’s an awkward silence and they both stare at the water, happy for the background noise the numerous tourists are providing. It gives them an excuse to be silent.

They’re both panicking for different reasons, he figures, because that’s who they are. He’s panicking because he said “ _we_ ” and if she’s not ready to say “ _I love you”_ , she’s probably even less ready to think about their future kids and he put his foot in his mouth _again_ and he’s scared that, at some point, he’s going to put too much expectations on her and she will run away. And she’s probably panicking because of _kids_ full point.

“Do you want children?” she asks, after clearing her throat.

Does he? He has never really thought about it. Children have always been a distant _maybe_.

“I have four raptors.” he blurts out. It really isn’t the right thing to say if he believes her crushed expression. “I mean… Maybe, one day, yeah, it would be cool. But right now… Right now I have four raptors and your monster to take care about, and you _promised_ you would find someone, Claire…”

He has been watching her I-Rex ever since the breakout attempt and between the dinosaur that isn’t a dinosaur, the girls and her nephews who insisted on going paddling for hours, he’s looking forward to a good night sleep.

“I will.” She rolls her eyes. “I have a list of people. I will start interviewing them next week.”

That still leaves him with five days to cover.

“Give me a raise.” he grumbles.

“I would double your pay if you agreed to take care of the I-Rex full time.” she sighs. “I’m sure you could jungle between her and the girls… It’s all about time management.”

“Time management that would mean I have no more time for you.” he points out.

“I’m Senior Asset Manager, you are _required_ to make time for me.” she grins. “It’s in your job description.”

“Smart ass.” he snorts.

They exchange a smile and they lean against the railing, turning their back to the tourists who laugh too loud and speculate about the park with an enthusiasm they have both lost.

“So… _One day_. You might want kids?” she insists.

He shrugs. “Maybe. It’s not a deal breaker, Claire. If you don’t want them…”

“Why would you assume I don’t want them?” she frowns, adopting a defensive stance. “I never said I didn’t want children. I want children.”

It’s his turn to frown.

“Okay…” he says slowly. “Do you want them… _Now_?”

Because _that_ could be a problem. He doesn’t want kids _right now_. Training raptors is time consuming and they are still trying to find their place in their relationship and…

“No!” she replies, almost horrified.

“Then why are we arguing?” he asks, rolling their eyes. “Let’s argue about kids when one of us _actually_ wants kids.”

“Why are you so sure we will still be together in a few years?” she asks, puzzled by his faith.

“Because I love you.” he says as if it explains everything. And in his book it does.

A soft smile blossoms on her lips and she leans in to kiss him. It’s very deliberate and there are a few employees coming back to the park on the ferry but she doesn’t seem to mind being seen and if it’s her way of going public then so be it. Her nephews running around calling him “Uncle Owen” have already sort of outed them anyway.

The kiss is slow and ends up in a few pecks.

“What about marriage?” he hums, wrapping his arms around her waist. “Do you want to get married?”

“For the record, if you ever propose, do it better than this.” she smirks. “And there better be no board shorts and no tequila.”

“Ah, come on… We can’t beat the Queen of Worst Date.” he chuckles. “That’s a yes, though? You want to get married one day?”

“I don’t know… I suppose so…” she shrugs. “I don’t know if there would be a point to it… I could never change my name… Claire Dearing is like a brand in the business field…”

Marriage is not about changing one’s name and he thinks she would feel as if she’s giving up a part of who she is if she ever did anyway.

“You can keep your name.” he decides. “Or I can change mine. I would make a dashing Mr Grady-Dearing.”

Her laugh is so free and contagious he can’t help but kiss her, amazed at how wonderful she is. Amazed that of all the people she could have, she has chosen him.

 


	8. Chapter 8

Two months after her nephew have left, six months in their relationship, their phones ring at the same time in the middle of the night. He jumps upright because he is a light sleeper but she groans and buries her face in her pillow. Their phones ringing at the same time isn’t a coincidence though and he shakes her shoulder a little rougher than he should before grabbing his.

By the time she’s awake enough to get hers, it has stopped ringing. It starts again before she can even check her missed calls.

It’s Barry, and Owen immediately fears the worst. He is out of bed before his friend can say more than his name, already putting on pants one handed, certain that one of his girls is either sick or worse. Claire is in a similar state of distress, she bolts out of bed with a “ _what_?” and starts getting dressed too.

It turns out it’s not one of the raptors acting up. He and Barry are taking turns supervising the I-Rex because none of the people Claire hired lasted more than two weeks. She is too aggressive, too clever, too much responsibility for someone who isn’t used to dealing with that kind of creature on a daily basis. And even then, she’s often more than he and Barry can deal with too.

The opening date of her attraction has been pushed back twice. She has been moved to a bigger paddock with reinforced security and, for a while, it has looked as if that would be enough to make her behave. Tough luck, there. Whatever that thing is, it’s not a dinosaur and Owen is at the end of his rope where she’s concerned. She pulls stunt after stunt, always looking for new ways to get out of her cage and not caring who she hurts in the process. She tries to kill all her handlers, not to feed, not because she feels threatened but because it amuses her. He doesn’t like the way she plays with her food either. It’s less a cat and mouse game than a psychopath game.  

And now she has managed to get rid of her tracker, one of the wall of her paddock sports deep claw marks and there is no way to know where she is or what she’s doing. It might be a repeat of her previous attempt to trick them into opening the doors or it might be more serious than that.

“I’m going to the girls paddock.” Barry concludes. “In case she did escape.”

He doesn’t ask his friend what he plans to do if the I-Rex is _really_ on the loose. Owen doesn’t think even the ACU could contain it and the last thing he needs anyway is InGen security and Hoskins wrecking havoc.

When he turns around, his shirt half buttoned and ready to leave, Claire is standing there, already in a shirt and jeans, wearing her damn heels.

“You’re staying here.” he says. He realizes how stupid he sounds at the very second the words pass his lips. First, there is no way Claire Dearing will be left behind when her park is in jeopardy. Second, he is not about to leave her in a bungalow lost in the jungle when a monster could be on the loose. “Never mind, we’re taking my bike, it will be quicker.”

She nods and follows him.

He drives too fast and too recklessly but he takes less risks than he would have if Claire hadn’t been clinging to his waist.

ACU is already there when they make it to the paddock and the first thing Claire does when she gets off the bike is call the control room for an update. There is none. The tracker is still reading a flat signal and they still don’t know if the clawed wall is a decoy or not. They have deployed some men around but, so far, they couldn’t tell if she has escaped or not. The darkness isn’t helping matters and yet it is a blessing it happened at night. People are in their hotels or, even better, back on the mainland, and no one is wandering around since the park is closed at this time. For now, they can contain people inside.

He and Claire go up to the observatory that runs in a long circle along the paddock walls but try as they might, they don’t spot her – which doesn’t mean anything because of her _damned_ camouflage abilities.

“Remind me to kill Wu later.” he grumbles.

“Fight me for it.” she snaps. “I need to know if she’s in there, Owen. If she _is_ on the loose… There are thousands of people on this island.”

“I know, honey, I know…” he sighs, forgetting her rule about pet names on their work place.

They’re at their second turn around the observatory when Hoskins shows up with a half-cooked idea about leading the raptors in a party search. It takes Claire bodily stepping between them to prevent him from punching him. Her voice is icy when she tells him that he has nothing to do here and he should just leave before she actually lets him get punched. He does leave but not without muttering something about “giving a phone call to someone more competent than a chick who got her job by spreading her legs”.

“Let’s toss him in the paddock, we’ll see if the I-Rex’s home or not.” he suggests, itching to just give in and hit him.

“Forget him.” she rebukes him. “I need to know what to do. Do I start the evacuation process or not? If I do it over a false alarm, I will lose my job. And if I don’t and she _is_ out there…”

There is no good option but there is a safe one and he knows her well enough to know what she is going to choose.

“I need to get in.” he sighs. “If she’s there… I need to go in.”

“Are you crazy? No!” she counters. “I forbid it!”

“Someone has to go in.” he argues. “If she’s in, that’s the only way to lure her out. She will attack. It’s her territory. It’s instinct.”

“But why you?” she retorts. “Send ACU.”

“They’re trained to stop a dinosaur on the loose not for that.” He rolls his eyes. “That’s a raptors trainer stuff. I will be safer in there than any of those men.”

“But I don’t care for those men!” she exclaims, a little too loud. They’re still in the observatory and the ACU team is still down on the ground but voices carry far at night and this kind of declaration coming from the park director wouldn’t be well perceived.

“Claire…” he sighs.

“No.” she cuts him off. “No, you are _not_ going.” She grabs his shirt in a death grip. “You are _not_!”

He has never seen her lose her calm like this before and it unnerves him.

“Okay, now you’re scaring me.” he states. “I need you to be the usual badass Claire right now, okay? I need you to get out there, call the control room and get everyone ready in case you _do_ have to order the evacuation.”

“I can’t be badass Claire when you’re set on getting yourself killed!” she snarls.

“Claire…” he sighs because there is no time for this. Now, of all times, is _not_ the moment for her to finally lose control.

“I love you!” It sounds like an accusation and it is coupled with an unforgiving slap on his arm. “I love you…” she repeats, more softly.

“You and your timing…” he snorts and then they’re kissing.

They don’t have time for a real kiss.

They don’t have time for the conversation that should follow her declaration.

They don’t have time for the sex that should go with it too.

His plan is the best plan – or, at least, he hopes it is. The security teams out there can find anything but that doesn’t mean the I-Rex isn’t hiding from them. If anything can hide from the ACU it’s her and there are plenty of places in the park she can lie in wait.

Owen has helped designed that paddock. There are a set of huge double doors that they have used to get her in and then had promptly welded shut. The only way in and out of the paddock now is the human size barred door with a double entrance like the one in the raptors paddock.

Claire has the control room on stand-by by the time he stands in front of those doors. A word from her and they will start the evacuation procedure.

“Don’t die when I just told you I love you or I will bring you back only to kill you.” she threatens. The ACU members around them politely avert their eyes and pretend they didn’t hear.

“I love you too.” he replies. It seems important to _say_ it. Just in case.

They pretend not to heart that too.

Turning away from Claire’s bright eyes asks a lot out of him and the second he steps inside the I-Rex cage, he knows it’s a mistake. Call it a sixth sense. Something you develop working in close proximity of four raptors who think they’re only playing when they’re chewing on your arm even if they’ve almost bitten it off.

He hasn’t taken two steps inside the paddock that his hair stands straight on his nape. His stomach churns and his senses are hyper, the surge of adrenaline is instinctive. He knows the feeling well : he is a prey to a bigger scarier predator.

When he speaks though, his voice doesn’t reflect any of his fear. “Where are you? Come out and play! Come on!” Goading Frankenstein’s monster is never a good idea but he is out of options. He takes another step but stop, not daring going too far from the doors in case a hasty retreat is necessary. “I was sleeping, you know? You’re even worse than my girls… You could at least keep your stunts for daylight…”

He has been caring for the I-Rex for months now but he still can’t call him one of his girls. She’s not. He hasn’t even given her a name yet. Maybe he should. Maybe it would make her less of a monster and more of something he could learn to like. He vows that if he makes it out of there, he would find her a proper name.

She’s part raptor, he has, at least, figured that much out, but she’s part so many things that it leaves him dizzy. She’s nasty. Not just like an animal born and raised in captivity could be nasty, not misunderstood, just nasty. Owen always listens to his guts and his guts say : danger.

“The game’s over, girl!” he calls out once more, scanning the surrounding greenery for any trace of her. “You gave them a good run, you had your fun, but I’m not fooled! I know you’re here! Come out!”

He doesn’t believe she understands human speech but he does believe she understands meaning. Claire usually laughs at him when he tells her the I-Rex knows what they’re talking about. He also believes that thing knows he’s the one who puts her in that bigger cage she has no hope of escaping.

The I-Rex hates him.

And he’s not overly surprised when he senses movement on his right.

He doesn’t think, he doesn’t hesitate. He rolls on the floor in the direction of the door and shouts at them to close it as soon as he’s safely on the other side. The bars closed on a clawed paw and, for a second, she struggles against the mechanism, trying to overpower it. Owen is behind the second door at that point, in safety.

He only breathes again once the door shuts and the I-Rex takes away her paw with a roar of defeat.

“Told you I wouldn’t die.”

That warrants him another brutal slap on his arm.

**o0°0o**

It turns out cleaning up after a false alarm of this scale is almost as tiring as cleaning up after a real alarm.

Claire disappears in the control room and it’s like a vortex of doom that sucks her in but never spits her out. Owen spends the rest of the night with the ACU, making sure the paddock is secured, trying to think of new ways to reinforced security. Some InGen scientists show up at some point with plans to inject another tracker, one she won’t be able to bite off her flesh. Sedating her so they can inject the tracker is just _fun_ and he doesn’t need to see her to hear Claire’s eye roll when he informs her by phone about what they’re going to do – because it is not possible to leave one of their dinosaurs _without_ a tracker, all the more so when she’s so dangerous.

It takes enough anesthetic darts to knock her down to put to sleep an entire herd of Apatosaurus.

He spends the whole time it takes the scientists to put the new tracker in training his gun at her, convinced she’s faking sleep, and knowing if she is, there’s no way his gun will protect him or anyone else.

Miraculously, that part of the plan goes without a hitch.

He takes the chance to get a look at the badly clawed wall and sighs when he realizes it would have to be reinforced. _Again_. Claire wouldn’t like the cut in her budget.

**o0°0o**

He watches the sun rise on the deserted park from the top of the Mosasaurus’ feeding show bleachers.

He will need to drive to the raptors’ paddock soon, relieve Barry who has been on duty all night.

The sound of high heels on metal alerts him to her presence and he turns his head in time to grab the Starbucks cup of coffee she’s handing him. Coffee is good. He is going to need coffee.

She has changed clothes. The practical jean and the shirt were gone, replaced by one of her business attire.

“Mr Masrani is very pleased by our handling of the situation.” she declares, sitting down next to him. “Apparently, you and I make quite the good team.” She takes a sip of her coffee and nudges his knee with hers. “Hoskins made an official complaint against us. Masrani shot him down. I filed an official complaint too for sexual harassment and derogatory comments. I don’t think we will see him around for a while.”

“Indie’s good for something then.” he mumbles in his coffee, too tired to voice out that it’s better if Hoskins doesn’t come around for a while because he hasn’t forgotten his parting comment. Maybe he should take a leaf out of the I-Rex book and trick him. Maybe he should lure him to the raptors paddock and let the girls see just how he acts around Claire. He doubts the girls would take kindly to anyone treating their perceived mother the way Hoskins does. Maybe they don’t understand words, but they do understand body language and emotions. He’s certain they would kill for Claire, like they would kill for him. She’s his mate, as far as they’re concerned, and that gives her the same rank he has. And, hey, they’re working with carnivorous extinct dinosaurs, accidents happen…

“Indie?” she repeats, confused.

“She needs a name.” he shrugs. “It’s high time she has one.”

“She is a health and safety nightmare.” she sighs. “Investors are getting cold feet. We are still not ready to open to the public. The whole thing is a burden and a money pit. There is a meeting this afternoon but… If they ask for my opinion, I will recommend termination.”

She says it almost fearfully, as if she expects him to disagree and rage about animals rights. And he would. Any other day, he would.

He’s not crazy though and as much as he would like to think love and care would be enough to bring the I-Rex under control, he knows better. Giving her a name won’t make her a pet.

“She’s rabid.” he agrees. “And she will never settle for a life in captivity.”

“InGen won’t be pleased.” she sighs, rubbing her eyes. “And Mr Masrani is convinced we simply didn’t find the right approach yet.”

“One day she’s going to get out and she’s going to destroy the park.” he replies. “Tell them that.” He toasts her. “My professional opinion.”

He’s a little bitter.

He doesn’t like the idea of anything being put down, all the more so something that has never asked to be created and who has been more or less tortured into a life that didn’t suit his nature since it has hatched. It makes him reevaluate his moral principles and how those views can coexist with his job as a raptors trainer. He respects his girls, yes, but he is still taming them, still trying to change them into circus animals just so InGen doesn’t change them into war machines. He doesn’t know what is worse.

“I need to go to work.” he sighs, finishing his coffee in a long mouthful. “Teach my raptors how to act like circus monkeys.”

He stands up but her fingers coil around his wrist, stopping him in his track.

“Owen, you and me, are we good?” she whispers.

He cups her face, tilts her head up and captures her lips. “I will see you tonight.”

It’s the only answer he can give right now.

He loves _Claire_.

But he resents _Claire Dearing_ a little for endorsing the creation of something they would have to kill.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is only one part left after that =)


	9. Chapter 9

He’s sitting on the stairs that lead to his bungalow, drinking a beer that is already lukewarm and trying not to get eaten alive by the numerous mosquitoes when he spots her car approaching. It slows down to a halt not far from his bike. She looks apprehensive when she steps out, she sits next to him and he hands her his beer without her needing to ask.

She is not really a beer kind of girl but there are days when any alcohol will do.

He doesn’t need her to tell him what decision they took during the meeting, he can read it clearly in her eyes.

“When?” he asks.

“Tomorrow morning.”

Her voice is pained and frustrated. She spent a lot of time around the raptors paddock lately, more often than not caving to Echo’s whining when she’s in her harness and wants to be petted. He thinks she’s starting to understand the dinosaurs are more than just numbers on her spreadsheets. That or maybe she has a soft spot of the I-Rex. After all, she’s been around her since she has hatched.

He stands up and stretches his arms over his head.

“I’m going to the paddock.” he says.

“Why?” she frowns. “She won’t try anything again tonight…”

“It’s her last night. She shouldn’t be alone, monster or not.” he simply shrugs.

She watches him for a moment before averting her eyes, taking a sip of the beer to cover her nervousness.

“Are you angry with me?” she whispers. “I feel like you’re angry with me…”

“I’m angry.” he confirms. “Not with you. It’s a _fucking_ waste, Claire, and all so arrogant men could pat each other’s back and congratulate themselves on beating Frankenstein. I hate that.”

She nods slowly, not surprised.

She doesn’t try to stop him when he hops on his bike.

**o0°0o**

He’s been sitting on a bench in the observatory for a couple of hours when she shows up.

“I can’t sleep.” she tosses as a vague explanation.

Owen _could_ sleep. They’ve been awake for twenty-four hours at that point and he’s dead on his feet. But he doesn’t want to leave Indie, in part because he does believe that no one should be alone when they’re about to die and in part because he is somehow scared the I-Rex will figure out what’s in store for her and try to play fast or lose.

She’s roaming in her cage, almost as if she’s pacing, so obviously bored it’s painful to watch. He tries to convince himself it’s the best option. He _knows_ it’s the best option. It still feels like a waste.

Claire sits next to him and, for a while, they watch in silence.

“I can’t stop them from starting again, you know.” she says. “They’re already talking about it.”

“Of course, they are.” he scoffs. He wishes he could be surprised by that piece of news but he isn’t.

“Smaller, less dangerous but still impressive.” she sighs. “That’s how Masrani described it. I will have a field day trying to find investors after the I-Rex disaster.”

“Would that _really_ be a bad thing if you can’t get any?” he growls.

“We talked about this. The park needs renewing if we want it to survive.” she retorts. “I don’t agree with making dinosaurs from scratch. I can object, I can disapprove, but I can’t stop them. I don’t call all the shots, I only have so much power.” She remains silent for a few seconds and then she licks her lips. “I can threaten to quit if they go through with it again. It might give them pause. But it won’t stop them for long and where will we be? I will be out of a job and there would be another brand new monster over which we would have no control.”

“Don’t quit.” he counters at once. “You have a conscience, the rest of them only have money in their brain. The park needs you. I need you.”

“Then I suggest you work on the raptors attraction.” she shrugs. “That will buy us some time and I’m convinced it will stop InGen from eventually selling them to the military.”

“I’m doing everything I can.” he sighs.

He has increased the number of handlers watching the training in the hope of making the girls used to having an audience but they’re easily distracted. If they do open to the public soon, it would have to be on limited seats, with an interdiction to take pictures and he still hates that he has to do that to the girls, make them a circus number. On the other hand, he also hates that _he_ would have to become a circus number because there was no one else but him to make them do their tricks. It wouldn’t be all amusement, there would be an educational part to the attraction, he had insisted on it, but it was still… so not _them_.

“I don’t like her.” he confesses out of the blue, his eyes on the I-Rex still pacing below. “I feel guilty about it.”

“I feel guilty too.” Claire admits. “Not for the same reasons.”

He grabs her hand without thinking and entwines their fingers. “I feel sorry for her. She’s not… Putting her down is the best option but I still feel sorry.”

“I know.” she hums, resting her head against his shoulder. “You love those animals. You’re compassionate. You’re understanding. You take them as they are and you accept them even when they’re stubborn and foolish and not affectionate enough…”

“We’re still talking about the dinosaurs?” he snorts. She whacks his arm and he can help his chuckles. “So. You love me.”

“I love you.” she nods before propping her chin on his shoulder. He only has to turn his head to catch her lips.

“Took you long enough.” he teases between two kisses.

“But at least I’m certain.” she argues.

“I’m certain too.” he retorts.

A soft smile plays on her lips and he can’t stop himself from kissing her again. If he had a choice, he would never stop kissing her. Kissing her is the best thing he has ever done in his whole life.

“What do we do now?” she whispers.

“I want to wait until they come and do it.” he says, his good mood disappearing. He pecks her mouth one last time and brushes her hair away from her face. “You should go home, get some sleep. Go back to your place, maybe. It’s closer.”

She looks down and licks her lips nervously. “I checked out of the hotel earlier. I went back there to change this morning and… Do you know there were only three pairs of panties, one bra and two suits left? I looked around and I realized all my stuff was already at your bungalow. I realized I was already living with you. So I took what was left and I checked out.”

“Claire…” he starts, delighted by the news because they’re finally moving forward and he has been ready for some time but waiting for her to catch up.

“When I ask what do we do, I mean _what do we do now_?” she insists. “I’m scared out of my wits, Owen.”

He studies her in the semi-obscurity of the observatory, a slow cocky grin stretching his lips. “We live on an island full of dinosaurs. We better stick together. For survival.”

She snorts but she smiles back.

“For survival.” she agrees. “I can do that.”

**_ THE END. _ **

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of the ride! Thank you for reading and commenting. I hope you liked it and hopefully, I will see you soon for a new story =)


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